


Twilight- Redux

by werewolfologist



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Fix-It, Multi, Rewrite, Twilight Series Rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:46:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 60,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25829140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/werewolfologist/pseuds/werewolfologist
Summary: As of late October, I'm calling this project "Twilight Doom"PLAYLIST: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/79d5lbtAceMx1rCafsbDbk?si=v26seJhZTZ-QSzz6VtIgUwI'm gonna rewrite twilight...just because. I have no strong attachment to it but it's poorly written and I think it'll be fun to do.I'm basically putting out these chapters as soon as I finish them so, I'm not really on the highest horse here.
Relationships: Edward Cullen/Bella Swan
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	1. First Sight

**In the Olympic Peninsula** of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists under a near-constant cover of clouds. It rains on this inconsequential town more than any other place in the United States. It was from this town and its gloomy, omnipresent shade that my mother escaped with me in tow when I was only a few months old. It was in this town that I'd been set to spend a month every summer until I was fourteen; that was the year I finally put my foot down. These past three summers since, my dad, Charlie, vacationed with me in California for that time instead. 

It was to Forks that I now exiled myself— an action that I had to hype myself into doing. I never liked it there. 

My mom drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue. I’d miss the sun and the blistering heat, the vigorous, sprawling city...

"Bella," she said to me for the thousandth time, “You don't have to do this." 

I felt sudden panic as I stared at her wide, candid eyes: how _could I leave my loving, erratic, harebrained mother to fend for herself?_ Of course, she had Phil now, so the bills would probably get paid on time, there would be food in the refrigerator, gas in her car, and someone to call when she got lost on the road, but still, she was my _mom._

"I _want_ to go," I lied. I'd always been a bad liar, but I'd been saying this lie so frequently lately that it started to sound like the truth, even to me.

She looked as if she were about to cry, but she took a deep breath and nodded. "I know, Bella." a pause, "Tell Charlie I said hi." 

"I will." 

"You can come home whenever you want,” she insisted, “I'll come right up as soon as you need me." 

"Don't worry about me, okay? I love you, mom." 

She hugged me tightly, "I love you, too, sweet girl."

It's a four-hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, _another_ hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back down to Forks. Flying doesn't bother me; the hour in the car with Charlie, though, _that’s_ worrying.

He’d been really nice about the whole thing. He seemed so pleased I was coming to live with him for more than a month. He'd already gotten me registered for high school and was going to help me get a car and everything. 

But it was sure to be awkward with him. Neither of us were talkative people, and I didn't know if there was anything to say regardless. I knew that he was more than a confused by my decision to leave home, I mean, I hadn't made my avoidance of Forks a secret.

When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. I didn't see it as an omen, just unavoidable. I said my goodbyes to the sun about 7 hours ago. 

Of course, Police Chief Charlie Swan was waiting for me with his cruiser. I nearly groaned, _this_ was my primary motivation behind buying a car. Despite the fact that I had no money, I refused to be driven around town in a cop car. 

He gave me an awkward, one-armed hug when I got off the plane. "I missed you, Bells," he smiled. “How's your mother?" 

"She’s fine. She said to say hi. I missed you, too, Dad." I wasn't allowed to call him Charlie to his face. He offered to carry my bags, and I let him. I only had a few, since most of my old clothes were too light for Washington weather. My mom and I had pooled our resources to get a heavier wardrobe, but it was still pretty meager. It all fit in the trunk of the cruiser. 

"I found a good car for you, really cheap," he announced when we were on the road. 

"What kind of car?" I was suspicious of the way he said a ‘good car _for you’_ as opposed to just a ‘good car.’

"Well, it's a truck actually— a Chevy." 

"Where did you find it?" 

"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?" La Push is the tiny Indigenous reservation on the coast. 

I shook my head. 

"He used to go fishing with us during the summer.” Charlie prompted. 

“Oh.” I feigned recognition, I’ve blocked a lot of things having to do with this place from my memory, and, I guess, Billy Black was one of those things, sadly.

"He's in a wheelchair now, so, you know, he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap." 

"What year is it?" I could see from his change of expression that he was hoping I wouldn't ask.

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine — He got it in ‘84-ish but it works like it’s only a few years old." 

"Did he buy it new?" 

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties — or late fifties at the earliest," he admitted. 

"Dad, I don't really know anything about cars. I wouldn't be able to fix it if anything went wrong—“

"Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don't build ‘em like that anymore." 

_The Thing_ , I thought, _a front runner nickname for this car._

"How cheap is cheap?" 

"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." He peeked at me with a hopeful expression. 

"Oh,” my tone softened, “You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy it myself." 

"I don't mind. I wanted to do something for you." He was looking ahead at the road. Charlie wasn't comfortable expressing his emotions out loud. 

"I really appreciate it, dad, honestly." 

“No problem,” he mumbled. Not a lot was said after that. I took this time to watch the scenery whizzing by. It was beautiful, of course; I couldn't deny that. Everything was green: the trees, their trunks covered with moss, their branches hanging with a canopy of it, the ground covered with ferns. Even the air filtered down greenly through the leaves. It was too green, almost alien. 

Eventually, we made it to the house. Charlie still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he'd bought with mom in the early days of their marriage. There, parked on the street in front of the house that never changed, was my new old truck. It was a faded red color, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. To my surprise, I really liked it. I didn't know if it would run, but it was nostalgic in some way. Plus, it was one of those solid iron things that never gets damaged, you know, the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched next to a totally destroyed car.

"Holy sh- _crap_ , I love it." I didn't know Charlie's swearing policy. 

"I'm glad you do." He was trying to maintain his gruffly exterior but I knew he was kinda embarrassed.

Maybe my first day at school tomorrow won’t be as bad. 

It only took one trip to get my stuff in the house. Charlie gave me the bedroom I had as a kid. It faced out over the front yard, the wooden floor, the light blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellowed lace curtains around the window — all a part of my childhood. The only changes he ever made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk. The desk now held a second-hand computer, the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest jack. This was a stipulation from my mother so that we could stay in touch easily. The rocking chair was still in the corner. 

One of the best things about Charlie is he doesn't hover. He left me alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been impossible for my mother. It was nice to be alone, not to have to smile and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and wallow in my own angst. I was constantly pushing back thoughts of the coming morning- insisting that that’s a problem for later me to figure out. 

There’s only one cramped bathroom, located at the top of the stairs and I was trying not to dwell too much on that fact, either.

Forks High School had a frightening total of only three hundred and fifty-seven (now, fifty-eight) students. There were more than seven hundred people in my junior class back home. Here, all of the kids had grown up with each other — their great-grandparents were probably toddlers together. 

I would be the new girl, a curiosity, a freak. 

Maybe, if I looked like a girl from Phoenix- you know, sporty, blonde, tan, all the stereotypical things that go with living in the valley of the sun-- I could work that to my advantage, but physically, I'd never fit in anywhere, _especially_ not Arizona. I was ivory-skinned, no freckles despite the sunshine, hell, my skin was almost translucent. I was slender but soft, definitely not an athlete; absolutely no coordination for playing sports without humiliating myself.

Facing my pallid reflection in the bathroom mirror, I was forced to admit that if I couldn't find a niche in a school with three _thousand_ people, what were my chances here? 

I didn't relate well to people my age, or anyone, period. Even my mother, who I was closer to than anyone else on this planet, was never exactly in harmony with me. Sometimes, I wondered if I was seeing the same things through my eyes that the rest of the world was seeing through theirs. Maybe there’s something wrong with me. But, I guess, the cause didn't matter. All that mattered was how it made me look, and it didn’t make me look any good.

I didn't sleep well that night, even after crying my eyes out. The constant _whooshing_ of the rain and wind across the roof made me more anxious. I pulled my faded old quilt over my head and later added the pillow, too. But I couldn't fall asleep until well after one when the rain finally settled into a quiet drizzle. 

  
  


A thick fog covered the town the next morning, it was all I see and I could feel the claustrophobia creeping up on me. I swear you could never see the sky here, it's like a cage. 

Breakfast was painfully quiet. Charlie wished me good luck at school, then left for work. Good luck, however, tended to avoid me. I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three mix-matched chairs and looked around the small kitchen: dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and white linoleum floor. Nothing was changed. Mom had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some levity to the house. Over the fireplace in the adjoining tiny family room was a row of pictures. First my parents’ wedding picture in Vegas, then, one in the hospital after I was born, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year's. Those were hard to look at. I wondered if I could get Charlie to put them somewhere else for the time being.

I didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore; It was impossible to be in that house and not realize that Charlie had never gotten over my mom. It made me feel a mix of discomfort and sorrow, so, I donned my jacket and headed out into the rain. 

It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me as I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the door, and locked up. The sloshing of my boots was unnerving. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked. I couldn't pause and admire my truck again as I wanted; I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under my hood. 

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. Either Billy or Charlie had cleaned it up beforehand, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have flaws, at least the radio worked. 

Finding the school wasn't difficult. It was, like most other things, just off the highway. Though, it wasn’t obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School, made me stop. It looked like a bunch of matching houses, built with these maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its scale at first. _Where was the feeling of an oppressive institution?_ _Where were the chain-link fences, the metal detectors?_

I parked in front of the first building, which had a little sign over the door saying “FRONT OFFICE”. I’m sure you weren’t supposed to park there but, I decided I would get directions inside instead of circling around in the rain like a weirdo. I reluctantly stepped out of the dry truck cab and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges, taking a deep breath before opening the door. 

Inside, it was brightly lit and warmer than I'd thought. The office was small: a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticked loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots as if there wasn't enough greenery outside. The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and fluorescent flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman in glasses. She looked up at me, "Can I help you?" 

"I'm Isabella Swan," I informed her and saw immediate awareness in her eyes. The daughter of the Chief's flighty ex-wife has come home at last. 

"Of course," She dug through the precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk until she found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedule right here, as well as a map of the school." She brought several sheets to the middle counter. She went through my classes, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign that I was supposed to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and said she hoped I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could. 

I stared at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. _I can do this_. I got up enough courage to get out of the truck.

I kept my hood up as I walked on the crowded sidewalk. My jacket didn’t stand out. Once I got around the cafeteria, building Three was hard to miss with a large black "3" painted on a white square on the left corner. My breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I approached the door. 

The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just past the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them. They were two girls, one blonde, the other, brunette. 

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate engraved _Mr. Mason_. He gawked at me when he saw my name — not an encouraging response, I didn’t know whether to be a bitch about it or feel shame. Either way, he at least sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class, I wouldn't be able to deal with anything different

I kept my eyes down on the reading list Mason gave me. It was pretty basic stuff: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I had already read most of it. I wondered if my mom would send me my folder of old essays, or if she’d think that was cheating. I went through different arguments with her in my head while Mason droned on. 

The bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound, a gangly boy with acne and black hair leaned across the aisle to say something to me. 

"You're new, right?" He seemed like the overly eager, chess club type. 

"Yeah, it’s Bella," I said. 

"Where's your next class?" he asked. 

I had to check, "Uh, Government, with Jefferson, building six." 

"I'm headed toward building four, I can help you get there.”

I was tentative, "Thanks." 

“I'm Eric, by the way.”

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. We talked a little as we walked

"So, Forks is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" He asked. 

"Very." 

"Doesn't rain much there, does it?" 

I shook my head, "Three or four times a year." 

"Damn, what’s that be like?" 

Sunny. I told him. 

"But you don't look very tan." 

"It’s ‘cause my mother’s part albino." 

He didn’t get the joke. I don't blame him, it wasn't that funny.

We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. He took me right up to the door, though it was clearly marked. 

"Well, good luck, dude," he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together." 

I nodded and went inside. 

The rest of the morning passed about the same way. My Trigonometry teacher, Varner, whom I would have hated either way, simply because he was a Trig teacher, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class to introduce myself. I stammered the whole time and, to add insult to injury, I tripped over my own boots on the way to my seat. 

After two periods, I began to clock several repeating faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I liked Fork and stuff. I tried my best to be positive. At least I never needed the map. 

One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, she walked with me to lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my 5’5 but her wildly curly dark hair made up for a lot of our height difference. I couldn't remember her name, I smiled and nodded as she complained about teachers and classes. 

We sat at the end of a full table with her friends that she introduced me to. They were impressed by her bravery to talk to me. The dude from earlier, Eric, waved at me from across the caf. 

It was then, sitting in the lunchroom and trying to make conversation with seven complete strangers, that I first saw _them_. 

There were five of them sitting in the far corner of the cafeteria. They weren't talking, they weren't eating though each had a tray of food in front of them. They all looked away from each other, the other students, or anything in particular as far as I could tell. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention: They didn't look anything alike. Like, they didn’t look like they’d ever hang out with one another.

Of the three boys, one was big, muscle-bound like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. The other was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky and skinny with messy, bronze hair. He was more babyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students. 

And, the girls were total opposites, too. The tall one was statuesque with a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the _Sports Illustrated_ swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a critical hit on their self-esteem. Her hair was long, waved and golden. The short one was pixielike, super-thin, with small features. Her hair was pitch black, cropped short, and spiky. 

And yet, in a way, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was oddly pale, even for Forks. They all had very dark eyes and deep purplish, bruise-like shadows under those eyes like they were all suffering from insomnia, or recovering from a broken nose. All their features were straight, perfect, angular. 

But this also _wasn't_ why I couldn't look away. 

I stared at them because of their _uncanny_ faces, so different, so similar, they were all devastatingly inhuman. They look like angels painted on a cathedral. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful. 

I watched the pixie girl get up with her tray — unopened soda, unbitten apple — and walked away with graceful dancer's steps, as she dumped it and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes darted back to the others, who sat unaffected. 

"Who _are_ they?" I asked the girl from my Spanish class.

As she looked up to see who I meant, the babyish one suddenly looked at her, and then his dark eyes flickered to mine. He looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, I dropped my eyes anyway. In that flash of a glance, his face held no interest in us— it was as if she had called his name, and he'd looked up in involuntary response, having already decided not to answer. 

My neighbor giggled in embarrassment."That's Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live with Dr. Cullen and his wife." 

I glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers. His mouth was moving very quickly, the other three still looked away, and yet I felt he was speaking quietly to them. 

Weird names. Those are the names old people had. But maybe that was the style here — small town names? I finally remembered that the girl I was talking to was named Jessica, a normal name. 

"They are very... pretty." _Pretty_ was an understatement. 

"Yeah! They're all _together_ though — Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they _live_ together." Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town. But, if I was being honest, it rubbed me the wrong way. 

"Which ones are the Cullens’ kids?" I asked. "They don't really look related..." 

"’ Cause they're not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his early thirties or something. They're all adopted. Rosalie and Jasper _are_ brother and sister, though— they're foster children." 

"They look a little old for foster children." 

"They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they've been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She's, like, their aunt." 

"That's kind of cool of them, you know, to take care of all them when they're so young and everything." 

"I guess so," Jessica admitted reluctantly, I assumed she didn't like the doctor and his wife for some reason. "I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids, though," she added as if that mattered. 

Throughout the conversation, my eyes flicked over to the table again and again where the strange siblings sat. They continued to look at the walls and not eat. 

"Have they always lived in Forks?" I asked. Surely I would have noticed them on one of my summers here. 

"No," she said indignantly, "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska." 

I felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity because, even _they_ were outsiders, this excruciatingly handsome bunch were clearly not accepted. And, relief because I’m not the only newcomer, and certainly not the most interesting one by any standard. 

As I examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullens, met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As I looked back at Jessica, it seemed to me that his glance held some kind of unmet expectation.

"Who's the one with the reddish-brown hair?" I asked. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, and he was still staring at me, with a slightly frustrated expression.

"That's Edward. He's _gorgeous_ , of course, but don't waste your time. He doesn't date. Apparently, _none_ of the girls here are good enough for him." I wondered when he’d turned her down. I bit my lip and looked over again. He was turned away, but I thought his cheek appeared lifted as if he was smiling. 

After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They all were graceful — even the big, brawny one. It was unsettling. 

I was anxious to be on time for all my classes. One of my new acquaintances, who graciously reminded me that her name was Angela, had Bio II with me the next period. She was just as shy as me. 

When we entered the class, she went to sit at a black-topped lab table, she already had a neighbor. In fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, Edward Cullen was next to the only open seat. 

As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face—it was hostile, furious even. I hid my face from him, shocked and embarrassed. His eyes were coal black.

Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no mention of introductions. I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by _him_ , bewildered by his animosity.

I set my book on the table and took my seat, I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad. I sniffed my hair. It smelled like strawberries, inoffensive enough but, not to him, I guess. I let my hair fall over my shoulder, making a curtain between us, and tried to pay attention to the lesson. 

I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally through the screen of my hair at Edward. During the whole class, he never relaxed his stiff position as far from me as physically possible. I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his skin. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his elbows, and his forearm was muscular. He wasn't nearly as slight as he'd looked next to his brother. 

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was near ending, or because I was afraid of getting decked by some creepy guy? Edward continued to sit so still it looked like he wasn't breathing. _What’s wrong with him? Is this normal?_ Maybe Jessica wasn’t as bitter as I'd thought. 

It couldn't have anything to do with me, right? It's not like he knew me.

I regretted looking up at him. He glared down at me again, his eyes full of revulsion. I flinched and sank against my chair. Then, the bell rang loudly, making me jump, and Edward Cullen was out the door and gone before anyone else was out of their seat. 

I sat frozen, staring blankly in his wake. He was so _mean_. _Why?_ I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block my anger, I didn’t want to tear up. I usually cried when I was mad, an effect that made me less credible in the eyes of man. 

"Hey, you’re new here." a male voice said. 

I looked up to see a cute, round-faced boy, his blond hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way.

"Yeah, and?" 

"I'm Mike." 

"Bella." 

"Do you need any help finding your next class?" 

"I'm headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it." 

"That's my next class, too." He seemed surprised, I didn’t think it was that big of a coincidence, this school is small. 

We walked to class together; he was chatty, supplying most of the conversation, which made it easy for me. He'd lived in California ‘til he was ten, so he knew how I felt about the sudden switch in climates. Apparently, he was in my English class too. He was the nicest person I'd met all day. 

Entering the gym, he joked, "So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen him act like that." 

I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed? And that _wasn't_ his usual behavior. I played it dumb. "Was that the guy I sat next to?”

"Yeah, he looked like he was in pain or something." 

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I never talked to him." 

"He's kinda weird, honestly. If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you." 

I smiled at that before walking into the girls' locker room. He was nice, sadly that wasn't enough to calm me down. 

The gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn't make me dress down for today. Back in Phoenix, only two years of P.E. were required. Here, it was mandatory for _all four years_. A true Hell on Earth.

I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had sustained, and inflicted, playing however long ago. I felt nauseous. 

The final bell rang and I ambled off to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was stronger and colder. I wrapped my arms around myself. 

When I entered the warm office, I almost turned back around and walked out. Edward Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. He didn't appear to notice my coming in. I pressed against the back wall, waiting for the receptionist to be free. 

He was arguing with her in a low voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth period Bio to another time, ‘any other time’ in his words. 

I just couldn't believe that this was about me. It had to be something else, something that happened before I got there. The look on his face must have been about another problem entirely. It was impossible that this someone could take such a sudden, intense dislike to a complete stranger. 

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around my face. The girl who came in stepped up to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out. But Edward Cullen's back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me with hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt intense fear, raising the hair on my arms. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind. He turned back to the receptionist. 

"Never mind, then," he said hastily in a voice like velvet. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And he turned on his heel without another look at me and disappeared out the door.

I went meekly to the desk and handed her the signed slip. "How did your first day go, dear?" the receptionist asked maternally. 

"Fine," My voice was shaky. She didn't look convinced. 

The truck was the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven, already the closest thing to home I had in this damp, green hole. I sat in it for a while, just staring out the windshield stunned. But soon I was cold enough to need the heater, so I turned the key and the engine roared to life. I headed back to the house, trying to get Edward Cullen out of my mind.


	2. Open Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella gets pissed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took a while, promise the next chapter won't take a month. :) ALSO, if the formatting is difficult to read, please tell me.

The next day was both better and worse.

Better because, though the clouds were dense and opaque, it wasn't raining. Better because I knew what to expect of my day. Mike came to sit with me in English and walked me to my next class. At lunch, I sat with him, Eric, Jessica, and a few others. People didn't look at me as much as they had yesterday; I began to feel like I was treading water, instead of drowning in it. 

Worse because I was still tired; I couldn't sleep with the wind echoing around the house. Varner called on me in Trig when my hand wasn't raised and I had the wrong answer. I had to play volleyball, and the one time I didn't duck out of the way of the ball, I managed to hit my teammate in the head with it. 

And it was worse because Edward Cullen wasn't there at all. I couldn’t parse out _why_ I considered his absence “worse”, did I really want some dude's approval _that_ bad? 

Before I knew he was absent, I was dreading lunch all morning, fearing his bizarre glares. Part of me wanted to confront him and demand to know what his problem was, I’d even daydreamed about what I would say to him if I had the chance. But I knew myself too well to think I would actually have the guts to do it. 

But when I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica, I saw that his four siblings of sorts were sitting together at the same table, and he wasn’t there. 

Mike saw us and steered us to his table. Jessica seemed elated by the attention, and her friends quickly joined. But as I tried to listen to their conversation, I waited nervously for the moment he would arrive. I got so restless, It’s like knowing something bad is coming but it never happens just when you think it will. At some point, I seriously considered that maybe I hallucinated him.

I walked to Biology with more confidence when, by the end of lunch, he still hadn't shown. I held my breath at the door, but Edward Cullen wasn't there, either. I exhaled and went to my seat. Mike followed, talking about an upcoming trip to the beach. He lingered by my desk until the bell rang. Then he smiled at me wistfully and went to sit by a girl with braces and a perm. Was there a way to tell Mike I don’t want him around me as often that didn’t make me look like a stonecold bitch? I mean, he was nice but maybe _too_ nice.

I was relieved that I had the desk to myself, but I couldn't get rid of the nagging suspicion that I was the reason he wasn't there. ‘Impossible!’ I told myself, he was probably sick or something. It’s crazy to think that I could affect anyone so strongly that they'd skip an entire day of school. And yet...

Soon enough the bell rang, I went to gym class, and then the day was over. I walked swiftly out to the crowded parking lot. I got in my truck and dug through my bag to make sure I had everything I needed. 

Last night I'd discovered that Charlie couldn't cook much besides fried eggs and bacon. So I asked that I be in charge of the kitchen, he obliged, obviously. He barely kept any food in the house. So I had my shopping list and the cash from the jar in the cupboard labeled FOOD MONEY, and I was on my way to the Thriftway. 

As I started up the truck, I saw the two Cullens and the Hale twins getting into their car. It was a shiny new Volvo. Of _course_. I hadn't noticed anything but their faces before and now that I looked, it was obvious that they were all dressed exceptionally well; simply, but in clothes that subtly hinted that they were high-end. With their remarkable good looks and the way they carried themselves, they could have worn dishrags and pulled it off. It seemed excessive for them to have both looks and money. But as far as I could tell, life worked that way most of the time. It didn't look as if it bought them any acceptance here. 

No... I didn't fully believe that. The isolation must be what they want from life; I couldn't imagine any door that wouldn't be opened by that degree of beauty and probable wealth. 

The Thriftway was just a few streets south, off the highway. It was nice to be inside a supermarket; it felt normal. I did the shopping back in Pheonix, and I fell into the pattern of the task gladly. The store was big enough inside that I couldn't hear the tapping on the roof to remind me of the rain outside. 

When I got home, I unloaded all the groceries, stuffing them wherever I could find an open space. I hoped Charlie wouldn't mind. I wrapped potatoes in foil and stuck them in the oven to bake, covered a steak in the marinade, and balanced it on top of a carton of eggs in the fridge. 

When I was finished with that, I took my book bag upstairs. Before starting my homework, I changed into a pair of dry sweats, pulled my damp hair back, and checked my email for the first time in days. I had three messages (from mom, of course).

Bella,

Write me as soon as you get in. Tell me how your flight was.

Is it raining? I miss you already.

I'm almost finished packing for Florida, but I can't find my pink blouse.

Do you know where I put it? Phil says hi. 

\--Mom. 

I sighed and went to the next email. It was sent eight hours after the first. 

Bella,

Why haven't you emailed me yet? What are you waiting for? 

\--Mom. 

The last was from this morning. 

Isabella, 

If I don’t hear from you by 5:30 p.m. today I'm calling Charlie. 

I checked the clock. I still had an hour, but my mom was well known for jumping the gun. 

Mom, 

Calm down. I'm writing right now. Don't do anything rash. 

\--Bella. 

I sent that and began again. 

Mom, 

Everything is great. Of course, it's raining. I was waiting for something to write about.

School isn't bad, just a little repetitive. I met some nice kids who sit with me at lunch. 

Your blouse is at the dry cleaners - you were supposed to pick it up Friday. 

Charlie bought me a truck, can you believe it? I love it. It's old, but really sturdy, which is good, you know, for me. 

I miss you, too. I'll write again soon, but I'm not going to check my email every five minutes. I love you. 

\--Bella. 

I started my homework by reading _Wuthering Heights._ Sooner or later I heard Charlie come through the front door, I'd lost track of the time, and I hurried downstairs to take the potatoes out and put the steak in to broil. 

"Bella?" He called out when he heard me on the stairs. 

"Hey, Dad." 

"Hey, kiddo." He hung up his gun belt and stepped out of his boots as I worked in the kitchen. As far as I was aware, he'd never shot the gun on the job. But he kept it ready. When I came here as a child, he would always remove the bullets as soon as he walked in the door. I guess he considered me old enough now not to shoot myself by accident, and not depressed enough to do it on purpose. 

"What's for dinner?" he asked warily. My mother was an imaginative cook, and her experiments weren't always edible. 

"Steak and potatoes," I answered, he looked relieved. 

He seemed to feel awkward standing around doing nothing so he lumbered into the living room and turned on the TV while I cooked. 

I called him in when dinner was ready, and he looked appreciative as he walked into the room. 

We ate in silence for a few minutes. 

"So, how do you like school? Do you have any friends?" He asked.

"Well, I have a few classes with a girl named Jessica. I sit with her friends at lunch. And there's this boy, Mike, who's pretty nice. Everybody seems decent there." 

"That must be Mike Newton. Good kid — good family. His dad owns the sporting goods store just outside of town. He makes a good living off all the backpackers who come through here." 

I nodded and hesitated when I thought to ask, "Do you know the Cullen family?"

"Dr. Cullen's family? Sure. Dr. Cullen's a great man." 

"They- I mean, their kids are...a little unapproachable. They don't seem to fit in very well at school." 

I didn’t expect Charlie to look angry but he did. 

"People in this town," he muttered. "Dr. Cullen is a brilliant surgeon who could probably work in any hospital in the world— make ten times the salary he gets here!" He got louder. "We're lucky to have him, he's an asset to the community, and all of those kids are well behaved and polite. I had my doubts, when they first moved here, with those adopted teenagers and all, I thought we might have some problems with them. But they're all very mature — I haven't had one speck of trouble from any of them. That's more than I can say for the children of some folks who have lived in this town for generations. And they stick together the way a family should. Just because they're newcomers, people have to talk." 

It was the longest speech I'd ever heard him make. He must feel strongly about whatever people were saying. So, I backpedaled. "They seemed nice enough to me. I just noticed they kept to themselves. They're all, like, really pretty." 

"You should see the doctor," Charlie lightened up. "It's a good thing he's happily married. A lot of the nurses have a hard time concentrating on their work with him around." 

We lapsed back into silence as we finished eating. He cleared the table while I started on the dishes. He said he’d finish the rest of them, so I went upstairs to work on my math homework. 

That night it was finally quiet. I fell asleep pretty quick. 

The rest of the week was uneventful, I got used to the routine of my classes. By Friday I was able to recognize, if not name, almost all the students at school. In Gym, the kids on my team learned not to pass me the ball and to step in front of me if the other team tried to take advantage of my weakness. I was happy to stay out of their way. 

However, Edward Cullen didn't come back to school. 

Every day, I watched anxiously as the rest of the Cullens entered the cafeteria without him. Over time, I could relax and join in the lunchtime conversation with my table. Mostly it centered around the trip Mike was putting together to La Push Ocean Park. I was invited, and agreed to go, not that I really wanted to go to the beach but because I didn’t want to be outcast from the only group of people willing to talk to me. Plus, beaches should be warm, right?

By Friday I was perfectly comfortable entering Bio. I wasn’t worried that Edward would be there, I mean, for all I knew, he dropped out of school. 

My first weekend in Forks passed without much incident. Charlie worked for most of the weekend, I cleaned my room, got ahead on my homework, and wrote mom more faux cheerful emails. I did drive to the library Saturday, but it was so poorly stocked that I didn't bother to get a card; I would have to make a date to visit Olympia or Seattle soon and find a good bookstore.

The rain stayed soft that weekend. 

People greeted me in the parking lot Monday morning, I didn’t really know them but I waved back and smiled anyway. It was cold as hell but thankfully, it wasn’t raining. In English, Mike took his seat next to me. We had a pop quiz on our required reading. It was easy enough.

All in all, I was feeling a lot more comfortable than I had thought I would feel by this point- or at all, really. When we walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white. I looked at the little cottony fluffs of snow that were building up along the sidewalk, swirling erratically. I could hear people shouting excitedly to each other. The wind bit at my cheeks and nose. 

I don’t particularly like snow but, then again, I haven’t seen that much of it.

Mike laughed. And then a big, squishy ball of dripping snow smacked into the back of his head, we both turned to see where it came from. I assumed it was Eric, who was walking away, his back toward us in the opposite direction of his next class. Mike had the same suspicion. He bent over and began scraping together snow.

I started to hurry inside, I didn’t want to be caught in the middle of this, "I'll see you at lunch, okay?"

He just nodded his eyes on Eric's back. 

Apparently, it was the first snowfall of the new year. At least, that’s what everyone else is saying. 

I walked to the cafeteria with Jessica after class. I was so paranoid about getting hit with a snowball I kept my binder in my hands to use as a shield. Jessica found this hilarious, but, at least, something in my behavior kept her from lobbing a snowball at me herself. 

Mike caught up to us as we walked in the doors, laughing, with ice melting the spikes in his hair. He and Jessica were saying something about the snow fight as we got in line. Out of habit, I glanced toward that table in the corner, I nearly panicked: There were five people at the table. 

Jessica pulled on my arm, "Hellooo? Bella? What’re you getting?" 

I looked down; my face was red. I knew I had no reason to feel self-conscious, I hadn't done anything wrong. But God…

"What's with Bella?" Mike asked Jessica. 

"Nothing," I answered. "I'll just get a soda today." I caught up to the end of the line. 

"Aren't you hungry?" Jessica asked. 

"No,” my eyes were still on the floor. “I feel a little sick." 

I waited for them to get their food, and then followed them to a table, not making eye contact with anyone. I sipped my drink slowly, my stomach churned. Twice Mike asked, with the utmost concern, how I was feeling. I told him it was nothing. I was wondering if I _should_ play it up and hide in the nurse's office for the next hour. 

I allowed myself one glance at the Cullens. If _he_ was glaring at me, I would skip Biology- if not, I’d carry on. I tried to be as discreet as possible, I half-glanced at them, pretending to brush my hair out of my face. None of them were looking this way, so I took some liberties and gave myself a longer look at them.

They were laughing. Edward, Jasper, and Emmett all had their hair entirely saturated with melting snow. Alice and Rosalie were leaning away as Emmett shook his dripping hair toward them. They were enjoying the snowy day, just like everyone else — only they looked more like a scene from a movie than anything normal. 

But, aside from the laughter and playfulness, there was something different, and I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was. I examined Edward the most carefully: his skin was less pale, flushed from the snow fight maybe — the circles under his eyes much less noticeable. But there was something more. I searched, staring, trying to isolate the change. 

"Bella, what are you staring at?" Jessica intruded, she followed my eye line. 

At that exact moment, his eyes flashed over and met mine. 

I dropped my gaze, letting my hair fall to conceal my face. I was absolutely sure, though, that in the instant our eyes met, he didn't look unfriendly. He looked curious, unsatisfied in some way. 

"Edward Cullen is looking at you," Jessica giggled in my ear. 

"Does he look mad?" I couldn't help asking. 

"No," she sounded confused by my question. "Should he be?" 

"I don't think he likes me." I confided. I put my head down on my arm. 

"The Cullens don't like anybody-- well, they don't notice anybody enough to like them. But he's still looking at you." 

"Stop looking at him," I hissed. She snickered but looked away. I raised my head enough to make sure.

Mike interrupted us then — he was planning a huge snow battle in the parking lot after school and wanted us to join. Jessica agreed with much enthusiasm. I, on the other hand, kept silent. I would probably have to hide in the gym until the parking lot cleared. 

For the rest of the lunch hour, I forced my eyes to stay at my own table. I decided to go through the bargain I'd made with myself. Since he didn't look angry, I would go to Biology. I was still nervous, though.

  
  


While Mike and I were walking to class, it began to rain, washing all traces of the snow away in clear, icy ribbons down the side of the walkway. I felt a little disappointed.

Once inside the class, I was relieved to see my table was still empty. Banner was walking around the room, distributing one microscope, and a box of slides to each table. Class didn't start for a few minutes, and the room buzzed with conversation. I kept my eyes away from the door, doodling idly on the cover of my notebook. 

I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, but my eyes stayed carefully focused on the pattern I was drawing. 

"Hello," said a quiet, musical voice. 

I looked up, stunned that he was speaking to me. He was sitting as far away from me as the desk allowed, but his chair was angled toward me. His hair was dripping wet, disheveled. His dazzling face was welcoming, open, a slight smile on his flawless lips. But his eyes were careful. 

"I’m Edward Cullen," he continued. "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Bella." 

I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Had I made up the whole thing? He was perfectly polite now. I had to say _something_ , but I couldn't think of anything normal.

"H-how do you know my name?" Not normal enough, a simple ‘ _yeah’_ would have sufficed.

He laughed a soft, enchanting laugh. "Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town's been waiting for you." 

“Excuse me?” He made it sound like I was some crazy important mythological figure.

He didn’t get my drift. "Do you prefer Isabella?" 

"No, Bella’s fine," I said. "It’s just you said the people here have been waiting for me. I just think that’s weird, y’know?" I tried to explain.

"Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean it like that." He seemed embarrassed, "Word spread around town fast when your dad found out you were coming."

"A-oh. Yeah." I dropped it and we looked away from each other awkwardly.

Thankfully, Mr. Banner started class soon after. I tried to concentrate as he explained the lab we would be doing today. The slides in the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had to separate the slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represented and label them accordingly. We weren't supposed to use our books. In twenty minutes, he would be coming around to see who had it right. "Get started," he commanded

"Ladies first?" Edward asked. I looked up to see him smiling a smile so beautiful that I could only stare at him dumbfounded. "Or I could start if you want." 

"No," I said, flushing. "I'll do it." 

I was showing off, just a little. I'd already done this lab at my old school, and I knew what I was looking for. It should be easy. I snapped the first slide into place under the microscope and adjusted it quickly to the 40X objective. I studied the slide briefly. 

My assessment was confident. "Prophase." 

"Do you mind if I look?" he asked as I began to remove the slide. His hand caught mine, to stop me, as he asked. His fingers were ice-cold like he'd been holding them in a snowdrift before class. But that wasn't why I jerked my hand away so quickly. When he touched me, it stung my hand as if an electric current had passed through us. 

"I'm sorry," he muttered, pulling his hand back immediately. However, he continued to reach for the microscope. I watched him, still staggered, as he examined the slide for an even shorter time than I had. We went back and forth like that for the next few slides. I noticed his handwriting was so clear and elegant, it kind of intimidated me; my handwriting was shit.

We were finished before anyone else was close. Which left me with nothing to do but try to not look at him.

It didn’t work out, I glanced up, and he was staring at me, that same inexplicable look of frustration in his eyes. Then, I realized that subtle difference in his face. "Eyes!”

He jumped, “What?”

“I mean, uh, did you get contacts?"

He seemed bewildered. "N-No." 

I stammered, "Oh, I thought there was something different about your eyes." 

He shrugged and looked away. 

No, I _knew_ there was something different. I vividly remembered the flat black color of his eyes, the color was striking against the background of his pale skin and his auburn hair. Today, his eyes were a completely different color: a strange ocher, darker than butterscotch, but with the same golden tint. I didn't understand how that could be, unless he was lying for whatever reason.

I looked down. His hands were clenched into hard fists again. 

Banner came to our table then, to see why we weren't working. He looked over our shoulders to glance at the completed lab, and then stared more intently to check the answers. "So, Edward, didn't you think Isabella should get a chance with the microscope?" He provoked.

"Actually, she identified three of the five." 

Banner looked at me now; his expression was skeptical. 

"Have you done this lab before?" 

"Not with onion root." 

"Well," he said after a moment, "I guess it's good you two are lab partners." He mumbled something else as he walked away. After he left, I began doodling on my notebook again. 

"It's too bad about the snow, isn't it?" Edward asked. I had the feeling that he was forcing himself to make small talk with me. As if he had heard my conversation with Jessica at lunch and was trying to prove me wrong. 

"Not really." I was still trying to dislodge the stupid feeling of suspicion, I couldn't concentrate. 

"You don't like the cold." It wasn't a question. 

"Nope." 

"Forks must be a difficult place for you to live," he mused. 

"You have no idea," I murmured. He looked fascinated by what I said, I couldn't imagine why. 

"Why did you move here, then?" He was almost demanding, that put me off.

"It's complicated." 

"I think I can keep up," he pressed. I almost told him to fuck off but I paused for a long moment, and then made the mistake of meeting his gaze. His dark gold eyes confused me, and I answered without thinking. 

"My mom got remarried,"

"That doesn't sound that complex," he disagreed, but he was suddenly sympathetic. "When did it happen?" 

"Last September." I sounded sad, even to me. 

"And you don't like him," Edward surmised. 

"No, he’s fine. Too young, I guess, but fine." 

"Why didn't you stay with him and your mom?" 

"Phil travels a lot. He plays baseball for a living." 

"Have I heard of him?" he asked, smiling.

"Probably not. He doesn't play _well_. Strictly minor league. He still moves around a lot, though." 

"And your mother sent you here so that she could travel with him." an assumption, not a question. 

I raised my chin. "No, I sent myself here." 

His eyebrows knit together. "I don't understand," he admitted, and he seemed unnecessarily frustrated by that fact. I sighed. Why was I explaining this to him? Why did he want to know? He continued to stare at me with obvious curiosity. 

"She stayed home with me at first, but she missed him. It made her unhappy so I decided it was time to let her do her own thing and live with my dad." 

"But now you're unhappy," he pointed out. 

"Yeah, and?"

"That doesn't seem fair." He shrugged, but his eyes were still intense. 

I laughed without humor. "Things happen. Life’s just like that." 

He was skeptical but agreed dryly. 

"So, that’s it- that's all," I insisted, wondering why he was still staring at me that way. 

His gaze became appraising. "You put on a good show," he said slowly. "But I'd be willing to bet that you're suffering more than you let anyone see." 

I sneered at him but he seemed to find that _amusing_. "Am I wrong?" He asked.

I ignored him. "Didn't think so," he teased. 

"What does it matter to _you_?" I looked him in the face but just above his eyes. 

"That's a very good question," he said so quietly that I wondered if he was talking to himself. However, after a few seconds of silence, I decided that was the only answer I was going to get. I picked up my pen and pressed a little bit harder into my notebook while doodling.

"Am I annoying you?" he asked. 

_Yeah, shithead._ ”Obviously,”I glanced at him without thinking and told the truth again, "But, I'm more annoyed at myself. My face is so easy to read — my mom always calls me her open book."

"On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read." Despite everything that I'd said and he'd guessed, he sounded like he meant it. 

"You must be well-read then," I replied. 

"Usually." He flashed a wide smile. I rolled my eyes.

Mr. Banner called the class to order, and I turned to listen. I was in disbelief that I'd just explained my dull life to this bizarre boy who made me want to smash my head into a brick wall. He'd seemed engrossed in our conversation, but now I could see, from the corner of my eye, that he was leaning away from me again, his hands gripping the edge of the table with unmistakable tension. There’s no winning here.

When the bell finally rang, Edward rushed as swiftly and as gracefully from the room as he had last Monday. And, like last Monday, I stared after him in amazement. 

Mike hopped quickly to my side and picked up my books for me. "That was awful," he groaned. "They all looked exactly the same. You're lucky you had Cullen for a partner." 

"I thought it was easy," I regretted the snub instantly. "I've done the lab before, though," I added before he could think to be upset. 

"Cullen seemed friendly enough today," 

I tried to sound indifferent. "Yeah, I wonder what his deal was last Monday." 

The rain was just a mist as I walked to the parking lot, but I was happier when I was in the dry cab. I got the heater running, for once not caring about the mind-numbing roar of the engine. I unzipped my jacket, put the hood down, and fluffed my damp hair out so the heater could dry it. 

I looked around me to make sure it was clear. That's when I noticed the still, white figure. Edward Cullen was leaning against the front door of the Volvo, three cars down from me, and staring intently in my direction. I swiftly looked away and threw the truck into reverse, almost hitting a rusty Toyota Corolla in my haste. Luckily for both of us, I stomped on the brake in time. I took a deep breath, still looking out the other side of my car, and cautiously pulled out again, with greater success. I stared straight ahead as I passed the Volvo, but from a peripheral peek, I would swear I saw him _laughing_. 

  
  



	3. Phenomenon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella gets hit by a van

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of gaslighting I had to rewrite in this chapter was astounding

When I woke up the next morning, something was different.

It was the light. It was still the gray-green of a cloudy day in the forest, but it was clearer somehow. The fog lifted.

I jumped out of bed to look out my window; A fine layer of snow covered the yard, dusted the top of my truck, and whitened the road. The worst of it was that all the rain from yesterday had frozen over— coating the needles on the trees in fantastic, gorgeous patterns, and making the driveway a deadly ice slick. I briefly considered going back to bed.

Charlie had left for work before I got downstairs. In a lot of ways, living with him was like having my own place, and I found myself reveling in being alone instead of actually being lonely. 

I fixed a quick bowl of cereal and some orange juice. I felt excited to go to school, and that shocked me. I didn’t _like_ school— I liked seeing Edward Cullen. And that in itself was something I couldn’t unpack without wanting to bury myself alive.

I _should’ve_ had enough common sense to want to avoid him entirely after my conversation yesterday. Not to mention, I still didn’t understand why he would’ve lied about his eyes. And, most of all, his on-off hostility towards me freaked me out. Maybe he had rage issues? And _why_ can’t I lie whenever I look at him? His stupid perfect face made me want to fight him. 

I shouldn’t pick a fight with a dude with possible rage issues when I haven’t even been in school for a month… that seems like a month two sort of thing.

It took every ounce of my concentration to make it down the icy brick driveway alive. I almost lost my balance when I finally got to the truck, but I managed to cling to the side mirror and save myself. Clearly, today wasn't going to be amazing. 

My truck seemed to have no problem with the black ice that covered the roads. Though, I drove very slowly, not wanting to carve a path of destruction through Main Street. 

When I got out of my truck in the parking lot, I saw why I'd had so little trouble. A silver glint caught my eye, and I walked to the back of the truck to examine my tires. Snow chains! There were thin chains crisscrossed in diamond shapes around them. Charlie must’ve gotten up who knows how early to put them on my truck. My throat felt tight. I don’t think anyone’s ever done something so considerate for me. It was just a small act of kindness, a little gesture of concern that compelled me to rethink my entire 17-years of life at 8 AM.

An odd sound broke my reverie. 

It was a high-pitched screech, and it was fast becoming painfully loud. 

Despite what I thought would happen in a moment of disaster, the world didn't move in slow motion. Instead, the adrenaline rush seemed to make my brain work much faster, and I was able to absorb several things at once in clear detail. 

Edward Cullen stood four cars down from me, staring at me in horror in a sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock. A dark blue van that was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the brakes, spinning wildly across the icy parking lot. It was going to hit me. I didn't even have time to close my eyes. 

Just before I heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed, something pushed me, hard, but not from the direction I was expecting. My head cracked against the blacktop, and I felt something solid and cold pinning me to the ground. I was on the pavement _behind_ the car I parked next to. The van was still coming. It had curled around the end of the truck and, still spinning and sliding, was about to collide with me _again_. 

A low oath made me aware that someone was with me, and the voice was impossible not to recognize. Two long, white hands shot out protectively in front of me, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot from my face, the large hands fitting providentially into a deep dent in the side of the van's body. 

It was deadly silent for one long second before the screaming began. In the chaos, I could hear more than one person shouting my name. But more clearly than all the yelling, I could hear Edward Cullen's frantic voice in my ear. 

" _B_ _ella_? _Are you all right_?" 

"Yeah." My voice sounded strange like it was detached from my body. I tried to sit up, but he gripped me against his side.

"Careful," he warned, "I think you hit your head pretty hard." I became aware of a throbbing ache centered above my left ear. I groaned.

"That's what I thought." He said, _That’s it_ , I thought, _if I don’t have a concussion I’m going to punch him._

I couldn’t verbalize much, “Fuh..whuh..” was all I managed to get out. I didn’t feel concussed, just wholly disoriented.

I sat up and he slid as far from me as he could in the limited space. I looked at his concerned, innocent expression, his eyes were still golden. 

"Don't move!" someone yelled. 

" _Get Tyler out of the fucking van!_ " someone else shouted. People hurried to do something besides stand around. I tried to get up, but Edward's cold hand pushed my shoulder down. 

"Just stay put." 

"But it's cold," I felt like I was in a hostage situation ending with a police standoff. "You were over there," I suddenly remembered, "You were by your car." 

His face hardened, "No, I wasn't." 

"I saw you." I could hear the gruffer voices of adults arriving on the scene. But I held on to our argument; _I_ was right, and _he_ was going to admit it. 

"Bella, I was standing with you, and I pulled you out of the way." He looked at me wide-eyed and feral as if trying to convince me or communicate something crucial.

"No." I set my jaw. 

"Please, Bella." 

"Why?" I demanded. 

"Trust me," he pleaded, his soft voice overwhelmed me. 

I could hear the sirens now. "Explain it to me." 

"Later," he snapped, abruptly exasperated. 

"Fine," 

“Fine” He repeated angrily. 

It took six EMTs and two teachers to shift the van far enough away from us to bring the stretchers in. Edward vehemently refused his, and I tried to do the same, but he told them I'd hit my head and probably had a concussion. They put the neck brace on me. It looked like the entire school was there, watching soberly as they loaded me in the back of the ambulance. Edward got to ride in the front. 

A fine way to start the day.

To make matters worse, Chief Swan arrived before they could get off school property. 

"Bella!" he yelled in panic when he got out of the cruiser. 

I sighed, "I'm okay, Charlie-I mean, Dad, there's nothing wrong with me." 

He turned to the closest EMT for a second opinion. I tuned him out to consider the jumble of unexplainable images churning erratically in my head. When they'd lifted me away from the car, I had seen the deep dent in the tan car's bumper — a very distinct dent that could’ve mirrored Edward's shoulders... as if he had braced himself against the car with enough force to damage the metal frame... 

And then there were his siblings, looking on from the distance, with expressions that ranged from disapproval to fury but held no hint of concern for their brother's safety. 

They put me in the emergency room, a long room with a line of beds separated by pastel-patterned curtains. A nurse put a pressure cuff on my arm and a thermometer under my tongue. Since no one bothered pulling the curtain around to give me some privacy, I decided I wasn't obligated to wear the neck brace anymore. When the nurse walked away, I unfastened the Velcro and threw it under a bed. 

There was another flurry of hospital personnel, another stretcher brought to the bed next to me. I recognized Tyler Crowley from my Government class beneath the bloodstained bandages wrapped tightly around his head. Tyler looked a hundred times worse than I felt, but he was staring anxiously at me. 

"Bella, I'm so sorry!" 

"I'm fine, Tyler — you look awful, are you all right?" Nurses began unwinding his soiled bandages, exposing a myriad of shallow cuts all over his forehead and left cheek. 

He ignored me. "I thought you were gonna die; I hit a patch of ice and..." He winced as one nurse started dabbing at his face. 

"Don't worry about it; you missed me after all." 

"How did you get out of the way so fast?" 

"Uh, Edward pulled me out of the way." 

He looked confused. "Who?" 

"Edward Cullen — he was standing next to me."

"Cullen? I didn't even see him. Is he okay?" 

"Pretty sure. They didn't make him get on a stretcher." I was wheeled away then, by some nurses, to X-ray my head. Not even a concussion. I asked if I could leave, but the nurse said I had to talk to a doctor first. So I was trapped in the ER for now.

"Is she sleeping?" the musical voice asked. My eyes flew open. Edward was standing at the foot of my bed, with his smug smirk. I glared.

"So, what's the verdict?" he asked me. 

"There's nothing wrong with me at all, but they won't let me go," I complained. "How come you aren't strapped to a gurney, too?" 

"It's all about who you know," he answered. "Don't worry, I came to spring you." 

The doctor walked around the corner into my room and my brain basically malfunctioned. He was young, blond, and more handsome than any actor I could name. He was incredibly pale, though, and looked drained, with circles under his eyes. This had to be Doctor Cullen. 

"So, Miss Swan," Dr. Cullen said in a remarkably appealing voice, "how are you feeling?" 

"I'm alright." I said,” No damage.” 

He walked to the lightboard on the wall over my head and turned it on. "Mh, yes, your X-rays look good," he said. The doctor's cool fingers probed lightly along my skull. He noticed when I winced. 

"Tender?" he asked. 

“I've had worse.”

I heard a chuckle and looked over to see Edward's patronizing smile. 

"Well, your father is in the waiting room — you can go home with him now. But come back if you feel dizzy or have trouble with your eyesight at all." 

"Can't I go back to school?" I asked I had to weigh whether I wanted to deal with Charlie’s hovering or another day of the kids at my school staring.

"Maybe you should take it easy today." 

I glanced at Edward. "Does _he_ get to go to school?" 

"Someone has to spread the good news that you survived," said Edward. 

"Actually," Dr. Cullen corrected, "most of the school seems to be in the waiting room." 

"Oh no," I moaned. What I wouldn’t do to sink into the hospital floor and never return.

Dr. Cullen raised his eyebrows. "Do you want to stay?" 

"No, no!" I insisted, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and hopping down quickly. Too quickly — I staggered, and Dr. Cullen caught me. He looked concerned. 

"I'm fine," I assured him, “My balance problems had nothing to do with me hitting my head.”

"Take some Tylenol for the pain," he suggested as he steadied me. "It sounds like you were extremely lucky,"

"Lucky Edward happened to be standing next to me," 

"Oh, well, yes," Dr. Cullen agreed, suddenly occupied with the papers in front of him. Then he looked at Tyler and walked to the next bed. My intuition flickered; the doctor was in on it. "I'm afraid that _you'll_ have to stay with us just a little bit longer," he said to Tyler and began checking his cuts. 

As soon as the doctor's back was turned, I moved to Edward's side. 

"Explain to me what happened." I hissed under my breath. He took a step back from me, his jaw clenched. 

"Your father is waiting for you," he said through his teeth. 

I glanced at Cullen and Tyler, “Let him wait." I insisted. 

He glared, and then turned his back and strode down the long room. As soon as we turned the corner into a short hallway, he spun around to face me. 

"What do you want?" he sounded annoyed.

“You owe me an explanation.”

"I saved your life — I don't owe you anything." 

"Shut up, you promised!" 

"Bella, look, you hit your head, you don't know what you're talking about." His tone was cutting. 

My temper flared, “You saw the scans, there's nothing wrong with my head. Don’t try to tell me otherwise" 

He glared back. "What do you want from me, Bella?" 

"I want to know the truth," I said. "I want to know why you’re lying." 

"What do you _think_ happened?" he snapped. 

It came out in a rush. "All I know is that you weren't anywhere near me — Tyler didn't see you, that van could’ve easily crushed us both and it _didn't._ You left a goddamned _dent_ in it.” I could hear how crazy it sounded, and I couldn't continue. He was staring at me incredulously but his face was tense, defensive. I’m not crazy, he’s hiding something

"You think I lifted a van off you?" It was like a perfectly delivered line by a skilled actor. 

I merely nodded. 

"Nobody will believe you, you know." His voice held an edge of derision.

"Well, I didn’t really plan on telling anybody!" 

Surprise flitted across his face. "Then why does it matter?" 

“Because you keep trying to gaslight me.”

"I’m sorry, can't you just thank me and get over it?" 

"Oh, _Thank you_ for pushing me out of the way of a moving vehicle. It was _truly_ altruistic of you."

"You're not going to let it go, are you?" 

"Of course not." 

"In that case, I hope you enjoy disappointment." 

"Why did you even bother?" I asked, feeling an unexpected well of emotions. 

He paused, and for a brief moment, his stunning face was unexpectedly vulnerable. "I don't know," he whispered. And then he turned his back on me and walked away. 

I was so angry, it took me a few minutes until I could move. When I was able, I made my way slowly to the exit at the end of the hallway. 

The waiting room was more unpleasant than I'd feared. It seemed like every face I knew in Forks was there, staring at me. Charlie rushed to my side; I put up my hands. "I’m good- there’s no concussion," I assured him sullenly. 

"What did the doctor say?" 

"Dr. Cullen saw me, and he said I was fine and I could go home." Charlie had one arm behind my back, not quite touching me, and led me to the glass doors of the exit. I waved sheepishly at my friends, hoping to convey that they didn't need to worry anymore. It was a huge relief to get into the cruiser. 

When we got to the house, Charlie finally spoke. "Um, you'll need to call Renée." He hung his head, guilty. 

I was horrified. "You told Mom?" 

"I had to!" 

I groaned then resigned, I knew he had to.

My mom was in hysterics, of course. I had to tell her I was ok at least thirty times before she would calm down. She begged me to come home — forgetting the fact that home was empty at the moment — but her pleas were easier to resist than I would have thought. I was consumed by the secrecy Edward presented.

I decided I might as well go to bed early. Charlie continued to watch me anxiously, and it was getting on my nerves. I stopped on my way to grab three Tylenol from the bathroom. They helped, and, as the pain eased, I drifted off to sleep. 

This was the first night I dreamed of Edward Cullen.


	4. Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And that's when she snapped.

The dream was incredibly dark, and what little light there was seemed to be radiating from Edward's skin. As he walked further away from me, the light faded more and more. I ran after him, calling his name but, it was futile- no matter what I couldn’t catch up, he never looked back. I woke up in a cold sweat, I couldn’t fall back to sleep. 

The month following the accident was incredibly tense. 

At school, no one seemed to care about Edward concerning the near-fatal crash. I explained over and over again how he was the hero — that he pulled me out of the way and put himself in danger in the process. I tried to be convincing, to myself and others. Jessica, Mike, Eric, and everyone I told always commented that they hadn't even seen him there till the van was pulled away. 

I wondered to myself why no one else had convinced themselves to see him standing near me though, it was gospel truth that he saved me. What was mortifying was, if he really was there next to me, no one noticed him because no one really considered him significant despite being beautiful and, presumably, rich. _I_ was the obsessive one.

Edward was never surrounded by crowds of curious bystanders eager for his firsthand account. People avoided him as usual. The Cullen-Hales sat at their usual table, not eating, and only talking amongst themselves. No glances or interest in any other direction.

When he sat next to me in class, he was as far from me as the table would allow. He acted totally unaware of my presence. Only now and then, when his fists would suddenly ball up — skin stretched even whiter over his bones — I got nervous or self-conscious. 

I worried and overthought, I came to the conclusion that he wished he never pulled me out of the way of the van. I told myself that that was ridiculous, people don’t regret saving lives, right? But my mind kept snapping back to the ‘he wishes I was dead’ theory to use it as fodder for self-hate.

I wanted to talk to him. I had tried the day after the accident. The last time I'd seen him, outside the ER, we'd both been so angry. I still was furious he wouldn't trust me with the truth, even though I was keeping my part of the bargain. I realized, no matter how he'd done it, he had in fact saved my life. And, for that, I had some feelings of gratitude towards him.

He was already seated when I got to Biology, looking straight ahead. I sat down, expecting him to turn toward me. He didn’t. 

"Hey, Edward," My voice was soft like I was trying to get approval, I hated that.

He turned his head a fraction toward me without meeting my gaze, nodded once, and then looked the other way. 

And that was the last contact I'd had with him for the next few weeks. I watched him sometimes, from a distance. I felt guilt over being consumed with him, it didn’t feel right or justified -- nor did I want it. His golden eyes grew perceptibly darker day by day. I kept it cool in class, I gave no more notice that he existed than he did toward me. 

He plagued my mind. I kept dreaming about him.

Mom caught on to the fact I was acting differently. She worried as she does. I tried my best to calm her down but hiding made me feel worse.

The snow washed away for good after that one dangerously icy day. Mike lamented the fact he'd never gotten to stage his snowball fight, but the beach trip would probably come around sooner than expected. The rain poured heavily, though, and the weeks passed. 

Jessica made me aware of another event looming on the horizon — she called the first Tuesday of March to ask if she should invite Mike to the girls' choice spring dance. "I mean, I called ‘cause I thought you might’ve wanted to ask him.” 

"No, I wasn’t even planning on going."

"Really? It’s gonna be really fun." Her attempt to convince me was halfhearted.

"Yeah, I’m not really the dancing type."

The next day, she was oddly silent as she walked by my side between classes, I was afraid to ask her why. If Mike had turned her down, I would think I was the last person she would want to tell. At lunch, she talked excitedly with Eric while Mike kept to himself.

Mike was still quiet as he walked with me to class, he had an uncomfortable look on his face. He didn't broach the subject of the dance until I was in my seat and he perched on my desk. As always, I was hyper-aware of Edward sitting close enough to touch, yet as distant as if he were merely a figment of my imagination. 

"So," Mike said, looking at the floor, "Jessica asked me to the spring dance." 

"Great." I made my voice bright and enthusiastic. "You should go with her." 

"Well..." He floundered as he examined my smile, "I told her I had to think about it." 

"Why? Why would you do that?"

"Well, uh, I was wondering if... well, if you might be planning to ask me." 

More shock and guilt for me to add to the pile. But I saw, from the corner of my eye, Edward's head tilt reflexively in my direction. 

"Mike, I’m not gonna ask you," I said. 

"Did you- Are you going with someone else?" Did Edward notice how Mike's eyes flickered in his direction? 

"No, dude," I assured him. "I'm not going to the dance at all." 

"Why not?" Mike demanded. 

"I'm going to Seattle that Saturday," I explained. I needed to get out of town anyway — it was suddenly the perfect time to go. 

"Can't you go some other weekend?" 

"No, I can’t," I said. "You shouldn’t leave Jess hanging, she wants to go with you." 

"Yeah, you're right," he mumbled, and turned, dejected, to walk back to his seat. I had the automatic response of guilt, sympathy, and remorse. I questioned whether I was too hard on him but I knew I wasn’t. He wasn’t my love interest and that was that. 

Class started, Edward was staring at me curiously with that same, familiar edge of frustration even more distinct now in his black eyes. I stared back, surprised, expecting him to look away. But instead, he continued to gaze with probing intensity into my eyes. There was no question of me looking away. My hands started to shake. 

"Mr. Cullen?" the teacher called, seeking the answer to a question that I hadn't heard. 

"The Krebs Cycle," Edward answered, seeming reluctant as he turned to look at Mr. Banner. 

I looked down at my book as soon as his eyes released me, trying to find my place. I couldn't believe the rush of emotion pulsing through me — all because he'd happened to look at me for the first time in a half-dozen weeks. I couldn't allow him to have this level of influence over me. He didn't deserve it! It was pathetic! It was unhealthy!

For the rest of the hour, I tried very hard not to make him aware that I perceived him. When the bell rang, at last, I turned my back to him to gather my things, expecting him to leave immediately as usual. 

"Bella?" His voice shouldn't have been so familiar to me, as if I'd known the sound of it all my life rather than a few weeks. I turned unwillingly. I didn't want to look into his eyes and feel hypnotized. His expression was unreadable. He didn't say anything. 

"What? Are you talking to me again?" I finally asked, with a note of petulance. 

His lips twitched, "No, not really," he admitted. 

I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly through my nose, aware that I was gritting my teeth. He waited. 

"Then what do you want?" I asked, keeping my eyes closed; it was easier to talk to him coherently that way. 

"I'm sorry." He sounded sincere. "I'm being very rude, I know. But it's better this way, really." 

I opened my eyes. His face was very serious. "I don't know what you mean," I said. 

"I mean, It's better if we're not friends," he explained. 

My eyes narrowed. "It's too bad you didn't figure that out earlier, you could’ve saved both of us a lot of trouble.”

He seemed caught off guard, "Trouble? Trouble for what?" 

"For not letting Tyler kill me with his van." 

He was astonished. He stared at me in disbelief. When he finally spoke, he almost sounded mad. "You think I regret saving your life?" 

"I _know_ you do," I snapped. 

"You don't know anything." He was definitely mad. 

I looked away from him, fighting against all the wild accusations I wanted to throw at him. Instead, I gathered my books together, stood, and walked to the door. I meant to sweep dramatically out of the room, but of course, I tripped up and dropped my books before getting out the doorway. I stood there for a moment, thinking about leaving them. Then I sighed and bent to pick them up. He was there; he'd already stacked them into a pile. He handed them to me, his face hard. 

"Thank you," I didn't mean it. 

His eyes narrowed. "You're welcome,"

I straightened up, turned away from him again, and stalked off to my last class without looking back. 

  
  


It was always a relief to leave. I basically ran to my truck; I wanted to avoid anyone and everyone. The truck had suffered only minimal damage in the accident. I had to replace the taillights, and if I had a real paint job, I would have touched that up. Tyler's parents had to sell their van for parts. 

I almost had a heart attack when I rounded the corner and saw a tall, dark figure leaning against the side of my truck. But it was just Eric. I started walking again. 

"Hey, Eric," I called. 

"Hi, Bella." 

"What's up?" I unlocked the door. I didn’t really consider the uncomfortable edge in his voice something abnormal, so his next words took me by surprise. 

"Uh, I was just wondering... if you knew if Angela was going to the dance with anyone, yet?" His voice broke on the last word. 

"I'm not sure, why don't you as-- never mind." 

"Yeah, girls' choice. I don't know how to, like, ask without asking," he admitted, shamefaced. 

I thought for a second but I couldn't think of any bright ideas, "I don't talk to her much but if it comes up, I'll drop your name."

He lit up, "Sweet, Bella, that means a lot."

I shrugged, "No problem."

"Are you going? Mike was hoping you'd ask him."

I tried to be delicate, "Nah, man, I’m going to be in Seattle that day.” 

He looked dejected for him, "Damn, maybe next time." 

"Maybe," I agreed, “I mean, there’ll always be more dances.” 

He shuffled off, heading back toward the school. I heard a low chuckle. _Edward_ was walking past the front of my truck, looking straight forward, his lips pressed together. I yanked the door open and hopped inside, slamming it behind me. I revved the engine deafeningly and reversed out into the aisle. 

However, Edward was in his car already, two spaces down, sliding out smoothly in front of me, effectively cutting me off. He stopped there — to wait for his siblings; I could see them making their way over towards the car, but still by the cafeteria. I considered taking out the rear of his shiny Volvo, witnesses be damned. I looked in my rearview mirror. A line was beginning to form. Directly behind me, Tyler Crowley was in his recently acquired used Sentra, waving. I waved back though I was annoyed and preoccupied. 

I looked ahead to see Alice, Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper all sliding into the Volvo. In his rearview mirror, Edward's eyes were on me. What, was this asshole trying to start something? Was this his way of acknowledging me? My foot itched toward the gas pedal... one little bump wouldn't hurt them, just that stupid silver paint job. I revved the engine. 

But they were all in, and Edward was speeding away. I could’ve screamed.

When I was grabbing the ingredients for dinner that night, the phone rang. I was almost afraid to answer it, but it might be Charlie or my mom. 

It was only Jessica, and she was jubilant; Mike had caught her after school to accept her invitation. I celebrated with her briefly while prepping. She had to go, she said she wanted to call Angela and Lauren to tell them. I casually suggested that maybe Angela could ask Eric. And Lauren, a standoffish girl who had always ignored me at the lunch table, could ask Tyler; I'd heard he was still available. Jess thought that was a great idea. Now that she was sure of Mike, she actually sounded sincere when she said she wished I would go to the dance. I gave her my Seattle excuse. 

After I hung up, I tried to concentrate on dinner but my head was spinning, trying to analyze every word Edward had spoken to me today. What did he _mean_ , it was better if we weren't friends? 

My stomach twisted as I realized what he must have meant. He must've seen how absorbed I was by him; he must’ve thought I was into him and he, not want to lead me on... so we couldn't even be friends... because he wasn't interested in me at all. 

I didn’t understand why this had hurt me so much. This man _infuriated_ me yet I desperately wanted to be _liked_ by him-- I wanted his _approval_. Maybe it was because he was pretty, I considered. Maybe because he and his family were mysterious. I hated this. I hated him but I couldn’t get him out of my head. He consumed every fiber of my being and, in a way, I actually liked it. Maybe "like" is a strong word but it fueled me in some incomprehensible way.

Soon enough, Charlie came home and I finished cooking dinner.

"Dad?" I asked at the dinner table. 

"Yeah, Bella?" 

"Um, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to Seattle for the day next Saturday... if that's okay?" I didn't want to ask permission but I felt presumptuous not to, he is my guardian after all.

"Why?" He sounded surprised as if he were unable to imagine something that Forks couldn't offer. 

" I wanted to get a few books and maybe look at some clothes." I had decided I deserved a nice day for myself.

"That truck probably doesn't get very good gas mileage," he said.

"I know, I'll stop in Montesano and Olympia — and Tacoma if I have to." 

"Are you going all by yourself?" he asked, and I couldn't tell if he was suspicious or just worried about car trouble. 

"Yeah." 

"Seattle is a big city — you could get lost," he fretted. 

"Dad, Phoenix is five times the size of Seattle — and I can read a map, don't worry about it." 

"Are you sure?”

“Yes, dad.”

"Hm. Will you be back in time for the dance?" 

"No — I don't like dances, Dad." He, of all people, should understand that — I didn't get my balance problems from my mother. He backed off after that.

  
  


The next morning, when I pulled into the parking lot, I deliberately parked as far as possible from the silver Volvo. I didn't want to get too tempted and end up owing him a new car. Getting out of the cab, I fumbled with my key and it fell into a puddle at my feet. As I bent to get it, a white hand flashed out and grabbed it before I could. I jerked upright. Edward Cullen was right next to me, leaning casually against my truck. 

"How do you _do_ that?" I asked in amazed irritation. 

"Do what?" He held my key out as he spoke. I grabbed them.

"Appear out of thin air." 

"Bella, it's not my fault if you are exceptionally unobservant." His voice was quiet and velvet as usual. His eyes were light again today, a deep, golden honey color. Then I had to look away, to reassemble my scattered thoughts. 

"What was up with you blocking me in yesterday?" I demanded. "I thought you wanted to pretend I didn’t exist? I didn’t know that included trying to get me to hit your bullshit car.”

“Maybe I’m just trying to cancel out the life debt you owe me.” He snickered.

I could help myself from laughing, just a little, “Fuck you.” I told him.

He started to backtrack, "No, no, no-- look, I heard Tyler say he wanted to ask you out, I thought I’d give him a chance but I guess he didn’t have the guts." 

"You..." I couldn't think of a bad enough word. My anger seemed to amuse him.

"And I'm not pretending you don't exist," he continued lazily. 

"So what are you doing? Are you trying to pick a fight? You really are upset I didn’t get hit, huh?" 

Anger flashed in his tawny eyes. His lips pressed into a hard line, no humor left in him. In his cold voice, he said, "Bella, you are so, _so_ stupid," 

My palms tingled — without any consideration, I slapped him across the face. I was surprised at myself. I honestly thought I would’ve punched him instead.

His look of shock slowly shifted to remorse. I was still angry but I softened up, I thought maybe he’d finally got the message. I don’t even think I hurt him even though my hand was starting to sting. 

“I-I-” he started, now holding his face. I turned to walk away. "Wait," he called. I kept walking, sloshing angrily through the rain. But he was next to me, easily keeping pace. 

"I'm sorry, that was rude," he said as we walked. I ignored him. "I shouldn’t have said that.”

"You’re right, you shouldn’t have," I seethed. 

"I just wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me,"

" _I_ sidetracked _you_?" I asked severely. 

"I'm sorry! I don’t like it when you imply I regret saving you!" 

“Well, that’s how you’re acting!”

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry, okay? I don’t regret it, I don’t - I could never.”

His sincerity struck me. I didn’t feel bad for him, this is his own doing but I gave him a chance. "Fine then. What do you want to ask?" 

"I heard you say you were going to Seattle next week, and I was wondering if you wanted a ride." 

_Oh._

"What?" I whispered.

"Do you want a ride to Seattle?" 

"With you?" I asked, mystified. 

“Yes.”

I was still stunned. " _Why_?" 

"Well, I was planning to go to Seattle at some point anyway, and, to be honest, I'm not sure if your truck can make it." 

"My truck works just fine." I started to walk again, but I was too surprised to maintain the same level of anger. 

"But can it make it there on one tank of gas?" He matched my pace again. 

“Probably not, but who cares?”

"I tend to care about not wasting finite resources." 

"Honestly, Edward, I can't keep up with you. I thought you didn't want to be my friend." 

"I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be." 

"That doesn’t make _any_ goddamn sense..." I said cynically. We were under the shelter of the cafeteria roof now, so I could more easily look at his face. Which certainly didn't help my clarity of thought. 

"It would be more... _prudent_ for you not to be my friend," he explained. "But I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella." 

“ _Prudent?”_

“Yeah, it’d make more sense if we weren’t friends, but I want to be so-”

“Then don’t say ‘prudent’ it makes it sounds like you’re attracted to me.” I think I _liked_ arguing with him if it was over something trivial.

His eyes were gloriously intense as I uttered that last sentence. I couldn't remember how to breathe. 

"Will you go with me to Seattle?" he asked, his voice smoldering. 

“Sure,” I said. He smiled briefly, and then his face became serious. 

"We really _should_ stay away from each other," He said it more to himself than to me, but he shrugged it off, "I'll see you in class." 

He turned abruptly and walked back the way we came. 


	5. Blood Type

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella gets gently held.

I made my way to English in a daze. I didn't even realize when I first walked in that class had already started.

"Thank you for joining us, Miss Swan," Mr. Mason said in a disparaging tone. I hurried to my seat. Mike was being pretty distant throughout class. It was awkward but if he was mad at me for rejecting him, that’s his problem, not mine. He and Eric waited for me at the door after class so I guess it wasn’t that serious. 

Mike seemed to become more himself as we walked, gaining enthusiasm as he talked about the weekend. The rain was supposed to take a minor break, and so maybe his beach trip would be possible. I wasn’t very excited; rain or no rain, it would still only be in the high forties, if we were lucky.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. The conversation I had with Edward was so unreal, It was like having two different conversations at the same time. I couldn’t get over the way his eyes had looked. They put me in such a trance. 

I wavered between impatient and nervous while Jessica and I walked to the cafeteria. I wanted to see his face, to see if he'd gone back to that cold, indifferent persona. Or if, by some change of heart, he had dropped the act and lightened up. 

Jessica talked about the dance — Lauren and Angela had asked the other boys and they were all going together — and I tried my best to split my focus. As we walked through the double doors I looked immediately over to their usual table. There were only four Cullen-Hales sitting there. Edward wasn’t one of them. 

I got in line with Jessica though I'd lost my appetite — I only got a bottle of lemonade. 

"Edward Cullen is staring at you again," Jessica said, I snapped up. "I wonder why he's sitting alone."

I followed her gaze to see him with his charming smile, staring at me from an empty table on the other side of the caf’. Once he'd caught my eye, he raised one hand and motioned for me to join him. He kind of looked like a happy kid who wanted to tell his best friend a _super_ secret. I smiled back at him, bewildered.

"Does he mean you?" Jessica gasped.

"I guess, maybe he needs help with his Biology homework," I couldn’t think of a better excuse.

I got up to the table and stood behind the chair across from him, unsure of what to do for some reason.

"You should sit with me today," he said. I shrugged and sat down, watching him with caution. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

"This is... different," I finally managed.

"Well..." He paused, and then the rest of the words followed in a rush. "I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly."

I waited for him to say something that made sense. The seconds ticked by. 

"You know I have no clue what you’re talking about," 

"I know." he promptly changed the subject. "I think your friends are angry with me for stealing you."

"They'll live.” another silence, “What do you mean by ‘going through hell’? I’m not that difficult to be friends with.”

“It’s not you, I’ve just been keeping up appearances for so long. I’m tired— I’m giving up trying to be good. Whatever happens, happens.”

"Still have no clue what you'resaying ."

" _That’s_ the thing, I always say too much when I'm talking to you — it’s one of the problems."

"Don't worry — I barely ever know what you’re talking about," 

"I'm counting on that."

I rolled my eyes, “Shut up and tell me, in plain English, are we friends now?"

"Friends..." he dubiously mused.

"Well?" I pressed.

He grinned. "I’m not a very good friend." Behind his smile, the warning was real.

"Well, have you ever had a friend outside of your siblings?" I was trying to coax anything out of him besides mystery.

"Not many."

"Then it’s good to get practice with some more. So, do you want something to do with me or not?" 

His eyes narrowed, “I do, but-”

"No ‘buts’." I’m going to befriend this boy, so help me god. 

He chuckled with a shy grin and tossed his hands up, “Alright, yeah. I do.”

I felt pretty self-satisfied but I also felt like I got played, he was up to something- I could see it in his face or, maybe, that’s just his face. I looked down at my hands wrapped around the lemonade bottle, not sure what to do now. 

"What’re you thinking about?" he asked curiously.

I looked up into his deep gold eyes, "I'm trying to figure out what you are."

"Are you having any luck with that?"

"Not too much," I admitted.

He sat back, “Any theories?"

They ranged from him just being an antisocial dick to 'what if he’s Bruce Wayne'. I was leaning more towards the former. But then I wondered about how rich the Cullens actually were.

"Won't you tell me?" he asked, tilting his head to one side.

I played it coy. "No."

"That's really frustrating, you know," he complained.

“Oh, really? I can’t imagine how _aggravating_ not getting a direct answer must be!”

He grimaced.

"Better yet," I continued, the pent-up annoyance flowing freely now, "say that person also did a wide range of bizarre things — from saving your life under impossible circumstances one day to treating you like the dog shit he found on his boot the next, and with no explanation too, either, you were just meant to get over it. _God,_ that must be a lot to process- must be really annoying!"

"You've got a bit of a temper, don't you?"

“Yes. Especially when it comes to smug bastards like you.”

We stared at each other, unsmiling. He glanced over my shoulder, and then, unexpectedly, he snickered.

"What?"

"Your boyfriend over there seems to think I'm being mean to you — he's debating whether or not to come start a fight."

I refused to look back, “I don’t care, you’re usually wrong about shit anyways.”

"No, I'm not. He’s easy to read, most people are."

"Except me, of course."

"Yes. Except for you." His mood shifted suddenly; his eyes turned brooding. "I wonder why that is."

I shrugged and looked away from him.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, distracted.

"No." I looked at the empty table in front of him."You?" 

"No, I'm not hungry." I didn't understand his expression; it was like it was an inside joke.

"Can you do me a favor?" I was impatient. 

He was suddenly wary. "That depends on what you want."

"It's not much," I assured him.

He waited, guarded but curious.

"Just wondering if you could warn me beforehand the next time you decide to emotionally manipulate or gaslight or use me for your own personal entertainment or whatever you’re doing. Just so I'm prepared."

"I’m not trying to manipulate you, you’re just fun to mess with. But, that’s a fair request." 

"Well, stop _messing_ with me and be normal. Or, at least be easier to annoy so it’s fair."

"Can I ask for something in return?"

"Depends."

"Tell me a theory- just one."

Whoops. "No."

"Ah, you didn't qualify. anything, you just promised one answer," he reminded me.

"I said ‘ _depends_ ’," I reminded him back.

" _One_ theory — I won't laugh."

" _O_ kay." I paused, "I think you might be a guy with a lot of trust issues and that’s why you freeze people out instead of, you know, saying what you want and mean. Or, like, you’re a vigilante superhero douche who’s too dramatic to be homeschooled.”

He kept his face hard, “Interesting theories.”

"I'll figure it out eventually," I pointed at him.

"I really wish you wouldn't." He was serious again.

"Because... ?"

"What if I’m the villain?" He postulates.

"Oh, so you think you’re dangerous?” I joked.

"Do you?" His face was abruptly severe as if he were afraid that he'd accidentally said too much. Maybe my rage issue theory had some validity to it.

"No,” I said as if it were obvious. 

“Okay.” His voice got soft and sincere. He looked down, I wondered what was going on in his head, I wondered what his story was. I got anxious, sympathetic... and, more than anything else, fascinated. The same way I always felt when I was near him. The silence lasted until I noticed that the cafeteria was almost empty.

I jumped up. "We're going to be late."

"I'm not going to class today," he said. 

"Why not?"

"I like to ditch class now and then." He smiled up at me, but his eyes were still conflicted.

"Well, I'm going," I told him. I didn’t want to risk getting caught. 

"I'll see you later, then." He said. I hesitated, but then the first bell sent me hurrying out the door — with a last glance confirming that he hadn't moved a centimeter.

My head was spinning as I ran to class. So few questions had been answered in comparison to how many new questions had been raised. At least the rain had stopped. I was lucky; Mr. Banner wasn't in the room yet when I got there. I settled quickly into my seat, Mike and Angela were staring at me. Mike looked resentful; Angela looked surprised, and a little in awe.

Banner came into the room, then called the class to settle down. He was juggling a few small cardboard boxes in his arms. He put them down on Mike's table, telling him to start passing them around the class. 

"Okay, guys, I want you all to take one piece from each box," he said as he produced a pair of rubber gloves from the pocket of his lab jacket and pulled them on. The sharp sound as the gloves snapped into place against his wrists felt ominous. 

"The first should be an indicator card," he went on, grabbing a white card with four squares and displayed it to the class. "The second is a four-pronged applicator —" he held up something that looked like a nearly toothless hair pick "— and the third is a sterile micro-lancet." 

He held up a small piece of blue plastic and split it open. The barb was near invisible from this distance, but my stomach flipped. 

"I'll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don't start until I get to you." He began at Mike's table again, carefully putting one drop of water in each of the four squares. "Then I want you to carefully prick your finger with the lancet..." He grabbed Mike's hand and jabbed the spike into the tip of Mike's middle finger. Clammy moisture broke out across my forehead.

"Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs." He demonstrated, squeezing Mike's finger till the blood flowed. I swallowed convulsively, my stomach heaved.

"And then apply it to the card," he finished, holding up the dripping red card for us to see. I closed my eyes, trying to hear through the ringing in my ears.

"The Red Cross is having a blood drive in Port Angeles next weekend, so I thought you should all know your blood type." He sounded proud of himself.

"Those of you who aren't eighteen yet will need a parent's permission — I have the forms at my desk."

He continued through the room with his water drops. I put my cheek against the cool black tabletop and tried to hold on to my consciousness. All around me I could hear squeals, complaints, and giggles as my classmates skewered their fingers. I breathed slowly in and out through my mouth.

"Bella, are you all right?" Banner asked, sounding alarmed.

"I already know my blood type, Mr. Banner," I said in a weak voice. I was afraid to raise my head.

"Are you feeling faint?"

"Yes, sir," I muttered.

"Can someone take Bella to the nurse, please?" he called. Mike, naturally, volunteered

"Can you walk?" Banner asked.

"Yeah," I whispered. Mike seemed eager as he put his arm around my waist and pulled my arm over his shoulder. I leaned against him heavily on the way out of the classroom. He towed me slowly across campus. When we were around the edge of the cafeteria, I stopped.

"Just let me sit for a minute, please?" I begged. He helped me rest on the edge of the walk. I was still so dizzy. I slumped over on my side, putting my cheek against the freezing, damp cement of the sidewalk, closing my eyes.

"You look awful..." Mike said nervously.

"Bella?" a horribly familiar voice from the distance. "What's wrong — is she hurt?" His voice was closer now, and he sounded upset. 

Mike worried, "She got faint in class. I don't know what happened, she didn't even prick her finger."

"Bella." Edward's voice was right beside me, calm and collected. "Can you hear me?"

"Go away." I groaned. I didn’t want him, or anybody, to see me so desperate.

"I was taking her to the nurse," Mike explained, trying to be as declarative as possible, "but she wouldn't go any farther."

"I'll take her," Edward said. "You should go back to class."

"No," Mike held. "I want to make sure she’s okay."

Suddenly the sidewalk receded beneath me. My eyes flew open in shock. Edward had picked me up and I was now cradled in his arms.

"Put me down!" I didn’t want to vomit on him, though he kind of deserved it. He was walking away with me before I was finished talking.

"Hey!" Mike called, rather far behind us.

Edward ignored him. "You look awful," he told me, _Yeah, I’m aware._

"No _shit._ Put me back on the sidewalk," I moaned. 

"So you faint at the sight of blood?" he asked. I didn't answer. I closed my eyes again and did my best to fight my nausea.

"And not even your _own_ blood," he laughed.

"Oh my," I heard a female voice gasp.

"She fainted in Biology," Edward explained. I opened my eyes, I was in the office, and Edward was striding past the front counter toward the nurse's door. Ms. Cope, the front office receptionist, ran ahead of him to hold it open. The grandmotherly nurse looked up from her book, astonished, as Edward swung me into the room and placed me gently on the crackly paper that covered the brown vinyl mattress on the one cot.

Then he moved to stand against the wall as far across the narrow room as possible. His eyes were bright.

"She's just a little faint," he reassured the startled nurse. "They're blood typing in Biology."

The nurse nodded sagely. "There's always one. Just lie down for a minute, honey; it'll pass."

"I know," I sighed, it was already fading.

"Does this happen often?" she asked.

"Sometimes," I admitted. 

"You can go back to class now," she told Edward.

"I'm supposed to stay with her." He lied with such authority that — even though she pursed her lips — the nurse didn't argue it further.

"I'll go get you some ice for your forehead, dear," she said to me, and then bustled out of the room.

"You were right," I moaned, letting my eyes close.

"Well, I usually am — but about what in particular this time?"

"I should’ve ditched." I practiced breathing evenly.

There was a pause, "You scared me for a minute there," he admitted. “I thought Newton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods."

“Heh.” is all I could manage. I still had my eyes closed.

"Honestly — I've seen corpses with better color. I was concerned that I might have to avenge your death."

"You’ve seen corpses?” It was a bleary joke.

“Eh, not often.”

I chortled and moved on, “I’ll bet Mike’s so mad."

"Yeah, he absolutely loathes me," Edward said cheerfully.

"You don’t know that.”

“Are you kidding? I have eyes and the coveted ability to 'read the room'.”

"How did you see me? I thought you were skipping." I was almost fine now, though I tried to sit up and I got dizzy.

"I was listening to music in my car. '' Somehow, I didn’t expect such a normal response. I’d always imagined him sitting in some felled tree, reciting Shakespeare's collection of sonnets in his free time. 

I heard the door and opened my eyes to see the nurse with a cold compress in her hand.

"Here you go, dear." She laid it across my forehead. "You're looking better," she added.

"Thank you. I think I'm fine," I said, sitting up successfully. Just a little ringing in my ears, no more spinning. The mint green walls stayed where they should. I could see she was about to make me lie back down, but the door opened just then, and Ms. Cope stuck her head in.

"We've got another one," she warned.

I hopped down to free up the cot for the next person. I handed the compress back to the nurse. 

And then Mike staggered through the door, now supporting a sallow-looking Lee Stephens, another boy in our Biology class. Edward and I drew back against the wall to give them room.

"Oh no," Edward muttered. "Go out to the office, Bella."

I was bewildered for a moment but, I spun and caught the door before it closed, darting out of the infirmary, Edward right behind me. "Wow, you actually listened to me."

"I smelled the blood," I wrinkled my nose up. 

"People can't smell blood," he insisted.

"Well, I can — that's what makes me sick. It smells like rust... and salt."

He was staring at me with an unfathomable expression.

"What?"

"It's nothing." He waved it off.

Mike came through the door then, glancing from me to Edward. He looked back at me, his eyes glum.

"You look better," he accused. "Are you going back to class?"

"No, I'd just have to turn around and come back."

"Yeah, I guess... So are you going this weekend? To the beach?" While he spoke, he flashed another glare toward Edward, who was standing against the cluttered counter, still as a sculpture, staring off into space. 

I tried to be as amicable as possible. "Sure, I said I was in."

"We're meeting at my dad's store, at ten." His eyes flickered to Edward again, his body language made it clear that it wasn't an open invitation.

"I'll be there," I promised.

"I'll see you in Gym, then," he said, moving cagey toward the door.

My face fell, when the door closed behind him, I groaned, “God, I can’t go to Gym.”

"I can take care of that." I hadn't noticed Edward at my side. 

"Go sit down and look pale," he muttered. I sat in one of the creaky folding chairs and rested my head against the wall with my eyes closed. Fainting spells always exhausted me.

I heard Edward speaking softly at the counter. "Ms. Cope?"

"Yes?" 

"Bella has Gym next period, and I don't think she feels well enough. Uh, I was thinking I should take her home now. Could you excuse her from class?" His voice was soothing and suggestible.

"Do you need to be excused, too, Edward?" Ms. Cope said with pliant concern. I was mentally taking note of how he spoke, hoping I could replicate it on someone else- or, at least recognize if he’s using it on me.

"No, I have Mrs. Goff, she won't mind."

"Okay, then, go on ahead. You feel better, Bella, darling" she called to me. I nodded weakly and thanked her.

"Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you again?" With his back to the receptionist, he teased.

"I'll walk, thanks."

We left the building and out into the cold, fine mist that had just begun to fall. It felt nice — the first time I'd enjoyed the constant moisture falling out of the sky — as it washed my face clean of the sticky perspiration.

"Thanks," I said as he followed me out. "For offering to take me home."

"Anytime." He was staring straight forward, squinting into the rain.

"So are you going? This Saturday, I mean?" I was hoping he would, though it was unlikely. He didn’t seem like the type to thrive in large groups.

"Where are you all going, exactly?" He was still looking ahead, expressionless.

"Down to La Push, to First Beach."

He glanced down at me from the corner of his eye, smiling wryly. "I really don't think I was invited."

"I just invited you."

"I really don’t want Mike to snap and try to murder you for real this time." 

"He’ll get over it," I muttered,

We were near the parking lot. I veered left, toward my truck. He caught my jacket, pulling me back.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked. 

I was confused. "I'm going home."

"I promise to take you home safely. I'm not going to let you drive in your condition." His voice was still indignant.

"What condition? And what about my truck? I can’t leave it." I complained.

"I'll have Alice drop it off after school." He was towing me toward his car now, leading me by my jacket. It was all I could do to keep from falling backward. He'd probably just drag me along anyway if I did.

"I’m fine to drive!" I insisted. He ignored me. I staggered along sideways across the wet sidewalk until we reached the Volvo. Then he finally freed me.

"You are so pushy!" I grumbled.

"It's open," was all he said. He got in the driver's side.

"I am _perfectly_ capable of driving myself home!" I stood by the car, fuming. It was raining harder now, and I'd never put my hood up, so my hair was dripping down my back. He lowered the automatic window and leaned toward me across the seat. "Get in, Bella."

I caved and got in.

"This is stupid," I said stiffly. He didn't answer. He fiddled with the controls, turning the heater up and the music down. As he pulled out of the parking lot, I was preparing to give him the silent treatment but then I recognized the music playing, and I couldn’t help but comment on it.

"Oh, Clair de Lune." I was always happy to hear this piece. 

"You know Debussy?" He sounded surprised. 

“No, asshole, I don’t _know Debussy--_ Clair de Lune is one of the most recognizable music pieces in the world.” 

I made him laugh, and something about that made me feel...feelings, so I continued, “Imagine being so up your own ass that you think you’re quirky for liking Clair de Lune, like, that’s like saying--” I put on my best dumb guy voice, “ _Oh, haha, do you know about The Beatles; they're so niche, right?_ Come on!” He continued to laugh even though the joke wasn’t my best. 

“I know,” He said through giggles, “I know, you’re right.”

For a while after, he stared out through the rain, lost in thought. I listened to the music, relaxing against the light gray leather seat. It was impossible not to respond to the soothing melody. The rain blurred everything outside the window into gray and green smudges. I began to think about my mom. When I was younger, she would put on a compilation record of classical music to help me sleep. Clair de Lune was the first song on there, so I heard it the most. It was pretty hard for me to hear it without starting to nod off.

"What is your mother like?" he asked me suddenly.

The question startled me but I was careful not to get defensive, “Oh, why do you want to know?”

“I don’t mean to pry, I’m just curious.”

I faltered a bit before answering, "She looks a lot like me, but she's prettier. She's more outgoing than I am and braver. She's eccentric, and she's not a very good cook. She's my best friend." I stopped. Talking about her was making me homesick.

"How old are you, Bella?" He sounded less conversational and more interrogational. He'd stopped the car, and I realized we were at Charlie's house already. The rain was so heavy that I could barely see the house at all. It was like we were submerged under a river.

"I'm seventeen," I responded, a little confused.

"You don't seem seventeen." His tone was accusatory; it made me laugh.

"What?" he asked, curious again.

"My mom always says I was born thirty-five years old and that I get more middle-aged every year." I laughed, "I mean, someone has to be the adult around here." I paused for a second. "You don't seem much like a junior in high school yourself," I noted.

He made a face and changed the subject. "So why did your mother marry Phil?"

I was surprised he would remember the name; I'd mentioned it just once, almost two months ago. It took me a moment to answer.

"My mother... She's young at heart. I think Phil makes her feel even younger. Either way, she's crazy about him." I shook my head. I didn’t really get it.

"Do you approve?" he asked.

"Do I _what_?"

He backtracked, “I mean, do you like their relationship?”

I shrugged, "It doesn’t matter if I approve. I want her to be happy and he’s what makes her happy."

"That's very kind... I wonder," he mused."Would she extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your choice was?" He was suddenly intent, his eyes searching mine.

"I-I think so," I stuttered. "I hope so. But she's the parent. It's different."

"No one too scary then?" he teased.

I grinned. "What do you mean by scary? Like an Ex-Con sort of thing?”

“If that’s what you consider scary.”

"What's your definition?"

"Do you think that I could be scary?" He raised one eyebrow, and the faint trace of a smile lightened his face. I thought for a moment, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

“I guess you could be if you wanted to." 

"Are you frightened of me now?" The smile vanished, and his heavenly face was suddenly serious.

"No. What’s with you thinking you’re some grand Joker-villain? You’re just some dude, man."

He chuckled, he really just needed to not take himself so seriously. "So, are you going to tell me about your family?" I asked to distract him. "It's got to be a much more interesting story than mine."

He was instantly cautious. "What do you want to know?"

"You’re adopted?" I verified.

"Yes."

I hesitated for a moment. "What happened to your birth parents?"

"They died when I was young." His tone was matter-of-fact.

"Oh, s- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to--" 

"It’s okay, Bella. I don't really remember them that clearly. Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for a while now."

"And you love them." It wasn't a question. It was obvious in the way he spoke of them.

"Of course." He smiled. "I couldn't imagine two better people."

I nodded earnestly before continuing, "And your brothers and sisters?"

He glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

"My brothers and sisters, are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting for me."

"Oh, sorry, I guess you have to go." I didn't want to get out of the car.

"And you probably want your truck back before Chief Swan gets home, so you don't have to tell him about the Biology incident." 

"I'm sure he's already heard. There are no secrets in Forks." I sighed. He laughed, and there was an edge to it.

"Have fun at the beach... good weather for sunbathing." He glanced out at the sheeting rain.

"Won't I see you tomorrow?"

"No. Emmett and I are ditching."

"What are you going to do?" A friend could ask that, right? I hoped the disappointment wasn't too apparent.

"We're going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier."

"Oh, well, have fun." I tried to sound enthusiastic. I don't think I fooled him, though.

"Will you do something for me this weekend?" He turned to look me straight in the face, utilizing the full power of his burning gold eyes. "Don't be upset, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet. So... try not to fall into the ocean or get run over or anything, all right?" 

“Shove it, Cullen.” I snapped as I jumped out into the rain. I slammed the door behind me with excessive force.

He drove away, looking blithe. 


	6. Scary Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella gets spooked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I've finished 1/4 of this it's time to go back over revisions! The next chapter will take longer than usual to come out. 
> 
> ++ As of 16-OCT-20 re-revisions of 1-6 are done! happy reading. ++

As I sat in my room, trying to concentrate on homework, I was really listening for my truck. I would have thought, even over the pounding rain, I could have heard the engine's roar. But when I went to peek out the curtain — again — it was suddenly there.

I wasn't looking forward to Friday, and it more than lived up to my non- expectations. Of course, there were the fainting comments. Jessica especially seemed to get a kick out of that story. Luckily Mike never commented on it, and no one seemed to know about Edward's involvement. She did have a lot of questions about lunch, though.

"So what did Cullen want yesterday?" Jessica asked in Trig.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "He never really got to the point."

"You looked kind of mad,"

"Did I?" I tried to keep myself looking neutral.

"You know, I've never seen him sit with anyone but his family before. Isn’t that weird?"

"Yeah, weird," I agreed. She deflated; flipping hair and shrugging — I guessed she'd been hoping to hear a good story but I couldn’t bring myself to talk about it. Friend to friend confidentiality and all.

I kind of hoped I’d see Edward that day though, I’d known he was camping. When I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica and Mike, I couldn't keep from looking at his table, where Rosalie, Alice, and Jasper sat talking, heads close together.

At my usual table, everyone was full of our plans for the next day. Mike was putting a great deal of trust in the local weatherman who promised sun tomorrow. I'd have to see it before I believed it. But it was warmer today — almost sixty. Maybe the outing wouldn't be a bust.

Lauren kept throwing hostile glances my way and I didn’t get why until we were all leaving the lunchroom. I was right behind her when I overheard her sneer "...don't know why Bella doesn't just sit with the Cullens from now on."

I heard her muttering to Mike. I was surprised by the malice of it all, I really didn't know her well, certainly not enough for her to hate me. "She's my friend; she sits with us," Mike whispered back. I paused to let Jess and Angela pass me. I didn't want to hear any more.

That night at dinner, Charlie seemed enthusiastic about my trip to La Push in the morning. I think he felt guilty for leaving me home alone on the weekends, but he'd spent too many years building his habits to break them now. Of course, he knew the names of all the kids going, and their parents, and their grandparents, too, probably. He didn’t seem to mind.  
"Dad, do you know a place called Goat Rocks or something like that? I think it's south of Mount Rainier," I asked casually.

"Yeah — why?"

I shrugged. "Some kids were talking about camping there."

"It's not a very good place for camping." He sounded surprised. "Too many bears. Most people go there during the hunting season."

"Oh," I murmured. "Maybe I got the name wrong."

I meant to sleep in, but an unusual brightness woke me. I opened my eyes to see a clear yellow light streaming through my window. I couldn't believe it. I hurried to the window to check, and sure enough, there was the sun. It was in the wrong place in the sky, too low, and it didn't seem to be as close as it should be, but it was definitely the sun. Clouds ringed the horizon, but a large patch of blue was visible in the middle. I lingered by the window as long as I could, afraid that if I left the sky would disappear again.

The Newtons' Olympic Outfitters store was just north of town. I'd seen the store, but I'd never stopped there — not having much need for any outdoor supplies. In the parking lot I recognized Tyler’s and Mike’s car. As I pulled up next to them, I could see the group standing around in front of the Suburban. Eric was there, along with two other boys I had class with; I was fairly sure their names were Ben and Conner. Jess was there, flanked by Angela and Lauren. Three other girls stood with them. One gave me a dirty look as I got out of the truck, and whispered something to Lauren. Lauren shook out her hair and eyed me scornfully.

So it was going to be one of those days.

"You came!" Mike called, delighted.

"I told you I would," I reminded him.

"We're just waiting for Lee and Samantha... unless you invited someone," Mike added.

"Nope,"

Mike looked satisfied. "Will you ride in my car? It's that or Lee's mom's minivan."

"Yeah, sure."

"You can have shotgun," he promised. I hid my chagrin. Jessica didn’t appreciate all of the special attention Mike was giving me and, considering, I didn’t either I said, “Why don’t you give it to Jess, instead?”

The numbers worked out in both I and Mike’s favor, though. Lee brought two extra people, and suddenly every seat was necessary. I managed to wedge Jess in between Mike and me in the front seat of the car. Mike could have been more graceful about it, but at least Jess seemed happy.

It was only fifteen miles to La Push from Forks, with gorgeous, dense green forests edging the road most of the way and the wide Quillayute River snaking beneath it twice. I was glad I had the window seat. We'd rolled the windows down — the car was claustrophobic with nine people in it — and I tried to absorb as much sunlight as possible.

I'd been to the beaches around La Push a lot during my summers with Charlie. Even though the mile-long crescent of First Beach was familiar to me, it was still so breathtaking. The water was dark gray, even in the sunlight, white-capped, and heaving to the gray, rocky shore. Islands rose out of the steel harbor waters with sheer cliff sides, reaching to uneven summits, and crowned with austere, soaring firs. The beach had only a thin border of actual sand at the water's edge, after which it grew into millions of large, smooth stones that looked uniformly gray from a distance, but close up were every shade a stone could be: terra-cotta, sea green, lavender, blue-gray, dull gold. The tide line was strewn with huge driftwood trees, bleached bone-white in the salt waves, some piled together against the edge of the forest fringe, some lying solitary, just out of reach of the waves.

There was a brisk wind coming off the waves, cool and briny. Pelicans floated on the swells while seagulls and a lone eagle wheeled above them. The clouds still circled the sky, threatening to invade at any moment, but for now, the sun shone bravely in its halo of blue sky.

We picked our way down to the beach, Mike leading the way to a ring of driftwood logs that had obviously been used for parties like ours before. There was a fire circle already in place, filled with black ashes. Eric and Ben gathered broken branches of driftwood from the drier piles against the forest edge, and soon had a cone-shaped construction built atop the old cinders.

"Have you ever seen a driftwood fire?" Mike asked me. I was sitting on one of the bone-colored benches; the other girls clustered, gossiping excitedly, on either side of me. Mike kneeled by the fire, lighting one of the smaller sticks with a pocket lighter.

"No," I said as he placed the blazing twig carefully against the cone.

"You'll like this then — watch the colors." He lit another small branch and laid it alongside the first. The flames started to lick quickly up the dry wood.

"It's blue," I gasped.

"The salt does it. Pretty, right?" He lit one more piece, placed it where the fire hadn't yet caught, and then came to sit by me. Thankfully, Jess was on his other side. She turned to him and claimed his attention. I watched the strange blue and green flames crackle toward the sky.

After a half-hour of hanging out and talking, some of the boys wanted to hike to the nearby tidal pools. It was a dilemma. On the one hand, I loved the tide pools. They had fascinated me since I was a child; they were one of the only things I ever looked forward to when I had to come to Forks. On the other hand, I'd also fallen into them a lot. Not a big deal when you're seven and with your dad but I didn’t want to be wet for the rest of the day.

Lauren was the one who essentially made my decision for me. She didn't want to hike, she was wearing the wrong shoes for it. Most of the other girls besides Angela and Jessica decided to stay on the beach as well. I waited until Tyler and Eric had committed to staying back before I got up quietly to join the hiking group.

The hike wasn't too long, though I hated to lose the sky in the woods. The green light of the forest was strangely at odds with the happy adolescent laughter, too murky and ominous to be in harmony with the light banter around me. I had to watch each step I took very carefully, avoiding roots below and branches above, and I soon fell behind. Eventually, I broke through the emerald confines of the forest and found the rocky shore again. It was low tide, and a tidal river flowed past us on its way to the sea. Along its pebbled banks, shallow pools that never completely drained were teeming with life.

I was very cautious not to lean too far over the little ocean ponds. The others were fearless, leaping over the rocks, perching precariously on the edges. I found a very stable-looking rock on the fringe of one of the largest pools and sat there cautiously, spellbound by the natural aquarium below me. The bouquets of brilliant anemones undulated ceaselessly in the invisible current, twisted shells scurried about the edges, obscuring the crabs within them, starfish stuck motionless to the rocks and each other, while one small black eel with white racing stripes wove through the bright green weeds, waiting for the sea to return.

Sooner or later, the boys got hungry, and I got up stiffly to follow them back. I tried to keep up better this time through the woods, but naturally, I fell a few times. I got some shallow scrapes on my palms, and the knees of my jeans were stained green, but it could have been worse.

When we got back to First Beach, the group we'd left behind had multiplied. As we got closer we could see a new group of people joined our own. Some teenagers from the reservation came to hang out.

The food was already being passed around, and the boys hurried to claim some while Eric introduced us as we each entered the driftwood circle. Angela and I were the last to arrive, and, as Eric said our names, I noticed a younger boy sitting on the stones near the fire glance up at me. I sat down next to Angela, and Mike brought us sandwiches and an array of sodas while a boy who looked to be the oldest of the new group rattled off the names of the seven others with him. All I caught was that one of the girls was also named Jessica, and the boy who noticed me was named Jacob.

It was relaxing to sit with Angela; she was a relaxed person to be around — she didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. It left me free to think undisturbed while we ate. And I thought about how disjointedly time seemed to flow in Forks, passing in a blur at times, with single images standing out more clearly than others. And then, at other times, every second was significant, etched in my mind. I knew exactly what caused the difference, and it disturbed me.

During lunch the clouds started to advance, slinking across the blue sky, darting in front of the sun momentarily, casting long shadows across the beach, and blackening the waves. People started to drift away in twos and threes as they finished eating. Some walked down to the edge of the waves, trying to skip rocks across the choppy surface. Others were gathering a second expedition to the tide pools. Mike and Jess headed up to the one shop in the village. Some of the local kids went with them; others went along to the pools. By the time they all had paired off, I was sitting alone on my driftwood log, with Lauren and Tyler occupying themselves by the CD player someone had thought to bring, and three teenagers from the reservation sat around the circle, including Jacob and the oldest boy who had acted as spokesperson.

A few minutes after Angela left with the hikers, Jacob sauntered over to take her place by my side. He looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, and had long, glossy black hair pulled back with an elastic at the nape of his neck. He still had just a hint of childish roundness left around his chin.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?"

I sighed, "Bella, actually."

"I'm Jacob Black." He held his hand out. "You bought my dad's truck."

"Oh," I said, shaking it. "God, I should probably remember you."

"No, I'm the youngest of the family — if anything you’d remember my older sisters."

"Rachel and Rebecca," I recalled. Charlie and Billy Black had thrown the three of us together a lot during my visits, to keep us busy while they fished. We were all too shy to make much progress as friends.

"Are they here?" I examined the girls at the ocean's edge, wondering if I would recognize them now.

"No." Jacob shook his head. "Rachel got a scholarship to Washington State, and Rebecca’s married, she lives in Hawaii now."

"Woah," I was stunned. The twins were only a year or so older than I was.

"So how do you like the truck?" he asked.

"I love it. It runs great."

"Yeah, but it's really slow," he laughed. "I was so relieved when Charlie bought it. My dad wouldn't let me work on building another car until we got rid of it."

"It's not that slow," I objected.

"Have you tried to go over sixty?"

"N-No," I admitted.

"Good. Don't." He grinned.

"It does great in a collision," I offered in my truck's defense.

"Honestly, I don't think a tank could take out that old monster," he agreed with another laugh.

"So you build cars?" I asked, genuinely curious.

He nodded, "When I have free time, and parts. You wouldn't happen to know where I could get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?" he joked.  
"Sorry, I haven't seen any lately, but I'll keep an eye for you." As if I knew what that was.  
He flashed a brilliant smile, looking at me fondly.

"You know Bella, Jacob?" Lauren called from across the fire.

"We've sort of known each other since we were kids," he laughed.

"Cute." She sounded kinda bitter about it.

"Bella," she said, watching my face carefully, "I was just saying to Tyler that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come out today. Didn't anyone think to invite them?"  
"You mean Dr. Carlisle Cullen's family?" the tall, deep-voiced guy asked before I could respond, much to Lauren's irritation.

"Yes, do you know them?" she asked condescendingly, turning halfway toward him.

"The Cullens don't come here," he chided.

She huffed, not even trying to respond. Tyler, trying to win back her attention, asked Lauren's opinion on a CD he held. She was distracted.

I stared at the deep-voiced dude, taken aback, but he was looking away toward the dark forest behind us. He'd said that the Cullens didn't come here, but his tone had implied something more— that they weren't allowed; they were prohibited. His manner left a strange impression on me, and I tried to ignore it. Jacob interrupted my meditation. "So is Forks driving you insane yet?"

"That's an understatement." I grimaced. He nodded understandingly.

I was still turning over the brief comment on the Cullens, and I had a sudden need to be anywhere but here.

"Do you want to walk down the beach with me?" I asked. He was willing enough, he offered a hand to help me off the log.

As we walked north across the multihued stones toward the driftwood seawall, the clouds finally closed ranks across the sky, causing the sea to darken and the temperature to drop. I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket.

"Do you come up to Forks much?" I asked archly as if I was hoping for a yes. I needed more friends I genuinely felt welcomed around.

"Not too much," he frowned. "But when I get my car finished I can go up as much as I want — after I get my license," he amended.

"Who was the other boy Lauren was talking to?”

"That's Sam — he’s the oldest-- nineteen-- so he feels like he should be the leader," he informed me.

"What was that he was saying about the doctor's family?"

"Oh, the Cullens, they're not supposed to come onto the reservation." He out toward James Island, as he confirmed what I'd thought I'd heard in Sam's voice.

"Why not?"

He glanced back at me, looking trepidatious. "Shit, I'm not supposed to say anything about that."

" I won't tell anyone, I'm just curious."

He lifted one eyebrow and made his voice husky, "Do you like scary stories?" he asked ominously.

"I love them," I enthused.

Jacob strolled to a nearby driftwood tree that had its roots sticking out like the attenuated legs of a huge, pale spider. He perched lightly on one of the twisted roots while I sat beneath him on the body of the tree. He stared down at the rocks, a smile hovering around the edges of his broad lips. I could see he was going to try to make this good. I focused on keeping the curiosity I had off my face. Maybe if he thought I was only passingly interested, he’d tell me more.

"Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from — the Quileutes, I mean?" he began.

I shook my head, "Not really.”

"Well, there are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to the Flood — like, supposedly, we tied our canoes to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive." He gave as an example, "Another legend claims that we’re descended from wolves — and that the wolves are our brothers even still. It's against tribal law to kill them.”

I nodded.

His voice dropped a little lower. "Then there are the stories about the cold ones."

"The cold ones?" I hesitated.

"Yeah, there are stories of the cold-ones as old as the wolf legends, and some much more recent. Apparently, my own great-grandfather knew some of them. He was the one who made the treaty that kept them off our land. He was a tribal elder, like my father. You see, the cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolf—well, not the wolf, really, but the wolves that turn into men, the werewolves, the lycanthrope.”

“But what are they? The cold-ones, I mean.”

"I’m getting there, don’t worry," Jacob continued, "they’re traditionally our enemy but this particular clan that came to our territory was different. They didn't hunt the way others of their kind did — they weren't considered dangerous. So my great-grandfather made a truce with them. If they would promise to stay off our lands, we wouldn't expose them to the whites."

"If they weren't dangerous, then why... ?" I tried to understand.

"There's always a risk for humans to be around the cold ones, even if they're civilized like this clan was. You never know when they might get too hungry to resist." He deliberately worked a thick edge of menace into his tone.

"What do you mean, 'civilized'?"

"They claimed that they didn't hunt humans. They supposedly were somehow able to prey on animals instead."

"So how does it fit in with the Cullens? Are they similar to the cold ones your great grandfather met?"

"Not similar." He paused dramatically. "They are the same ones." He must have thought the expression on my face was fear inspired by his story.

He smiled, pleased, and continued.

"There are more of them now, but the rest of them are the same. Way back when the truce was made, they already knew of the leader, Carlisle. He'd been here and gone before your people had even arrived." He was fighting a smile.

"And what are they?" I finally asked. "What are the cold ones?"

He smiled darkly.

"Vampires," he replied in a chilling voice.

I stared out at the rough surf after he answered, not sure what my face was exposing.

"You have goosebumps," he delightedly.

"You're a good storyteller," I said, still staring into the waves.

"Pretty freaky, though, isn't it? No wonder my dad doesn't want us to talk about it to anyone."

I couldn't control my expression enough to look at him yet. “I won’t tell anyone. I'll take it to the grave."

"Seriously, though, don't say anything to Charlie. He was pretty mad at my dad when he heard that some of us weren't going to the hospital since Dr. Cullen started working there."

“I swear.” I crossed my heart.

“Do you believe it?”

I didn’t want to answer, “Do you?”

He sighed, letting the question hang in the air for a moment, “In a way, I do-- in a way, I don’t. The world’s a strange place, Bella; I think anything’s possible.”

And then the sound of the beach rocks clattering against each other warned us that someone was approaching. Our heads snapped up at the same time to see Mike and Jessica about fifty yards away, walking toward us.

"There you are, Bella," Mike called, waving his arm over his head.

“Yeah!” I called back, getting up.

"So when I get my license..." Jacob began.

"You should come see me in Forks. We could hang out sometime." Mike had reached us now, with Jessica still a few paces back. I could see his eyes appraising Jacob.

"Where were you?" Mike asked.

"Jacob was just telling me some folklore," I volunteered. "It was really interesting."

"Well, we're packing up — it looks like it's going to rain soon."

We all looked up at the glowering sky. It certainly did look like rain.

"Alright, I'm coming."

"It was nice to see you again," Jacob said.

"It really was. Next time Charlie comes down to see Billy, I'll come, too," I promised.

His grin stretched across his face. "Sweet."

"And thanks for the story," I added earnestly.

“No problem, dude.”

I pulled up my hood as we tramped across the rocks toward the parking lot. A few drops were beginning to fall, making black spots on the stones where they landed. When we got to Mike’s Suburban the others were already loading everything back in. I crawled into the backseat by Angela and Tyler. Angela just stared out the window at the escalating storm, and Lauren twisted around in the middle seat to occupy Tyler's attention, so I could simply lay my head back on the seat and close my eyes and try very hard not to think.


	7. NIGHTMARE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella does research.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all. My dislike for Stephenie Meyers increased TENFOLD since editing through these next chunk of chapters (7-12) so buckle up, I guess. 
> 
> I think I'm calling my rewrite "Twilight- Doom version" or maybe just Twilight Doom. Why? I dunno, I feel it in my soul.

**Once home, I rushed** to my room and I locked the door. I dug through my desk until I found my old headphones, and I plugged them into my little CD player. I picked up a disc that Phil had got me for Christmas. I had only listened to it once before but it was heavy and loud, exactly what I needed right now. I lay down on my bed. I put on the headphones and turned up the volume until it hurt my ears. I closed my eyes, but the light still intruded, so I added a pillow over my eyes.

I concentrated carefully on the music, trying to understand the lyrics, to unravel the complicated drum patterns. By the third time I'd listened through the CD, I knew all the words to the choruses, at least. I ended up really liking the band, finding comfort in the blaring sound. The shattering beats made it impossible for me to think — which was why I did this in the first place. I listened to the CD again and again, until I was humming along with all the songs, until, finally, I fell asleep.

I opened my eyes to a familiar place. Aware in some corner of my consciousness that I was dreaming, I recognized the green light of the forest. I could hear the waves crashing against the rocks somewhere nearby. And I knew that if I found the ocean, I'd be able to see the sun. I was trying to follow the sound, but I felt someone tugging on my hand, pulling me back toward the blackest part of the forest. It was Jacob Black.

_What’s wrong?_ I mouthed but couldn’t speak. His face was frightened as he yanked with all his strength against my resistance; I didn't want to go into the dark.

"Run, you have to run!" he spoke aloud, terrified. 

"This way!" another voice calling out of the gloomy heart of the trees, but I couldn't see it. I was still pulling against Jacob's grasp, desperate now to find the sun.

Jacob abruptly let go of my hand and yelped and began convulsing. He fell onto the dim forest floor, still twitching. I fell to my knees, frantic to help in some way. 

_Jacob!_ I mouthed. He began to sink into the dirt, I tried to dig him out or pull him up but it was all in vain, he soon was all consumed. 

I screamed and cried noiselessly. I felt the loose dirt around me shift, ever so slightly, then with more agency as it continued. Out of the ground, was a large red-brown wolf with black eyes. The wolf faced away from me, pointing toward the shore, the hair on the back of his shoulders bristling, low growls issuing from between his exposed fangs.

"Bella, run!" The unbodied voice called out again. But I didn't. I was watching a light coming toward me from the beach.

From the beach, his skin faintly glowing was Edward. He was monstrous-looking; face longer than usual, hollowed cheeks, emaciated frame, and a glazed look in his black eyes. He held up a bony hand and beckoned me to come to him. The wolf growled at my feet. I didn’t move.

He smiled, and his teeth were as sharp and pointed as needles. "Trust me," he purred.

I was emotionally drawn to him, out of pure senseless curiosity but it went against my basest of instincts, I was deathly still. Edward, however, moved towards me.

Add, without any hesitation, the wolf launched itself across the space between us and the vampire, aiming to tear out his neck with the full force of its jaw. 

I screamed, wrenching upright out of my bed.

The CD player clattered off the bedside table, onto the wooden floor. My light was still on, and I realized I was sitting fully dressed on the bed. I glanced, disoriented, at the clock on my dresser. It was five-thirty in the morning.

I groaned, fell back, and rolled over onto my face. I was too uncomfortable to get anywhere near sleep, though. I rolled back over and unbuttoned my jeans, yanking them off awkwardly as I tried to stay horizontal. I could feel the braid in my hair, an uncomfortable ridge along the back of my skull. I turned onto my side and ripped the rubber band out, quickly combing through it with my fingers. I pulled the pillow back over me.

It was all no use, of course. My subconscious had dredged up exactly the images I'd been trying so desperately to avoid. I was going to have to face them now.

I sat up, and my head spun for a minute as the blood flowed downward. First things first, I thought to myself, happy to put it off as long as possible. I grabbed my towel.

My shower didn't last nearly as long as I hoped it would, though. Even taking the time to blow-dry my hair, I was soon out of things to do in the bathroom. Wrapped up, I crossed back to my room. I couldn't tell if Charlie was still asleep, or if he had already left. I went to look out my window, and the cruiser was gone. Fishing again.

I dressed slowly in my most comfortable pajamas and then made my bed — something I never did. I couldn't put it off any longer. I went to my desk and switched on my computer. I hated using the Internet here. My modem was sadly outdated, my free service substandard; just dialing up took so long that I decided to go get myself a bowl of cereal while I waited.

I ate slowly, chewing each bite with care. When I was done, I washed the bowl and spoon, dried them, and put them away. My feet dragged as I climbed the stairs. I went to my CD player first, picking it up off the floor. I spun the same CD, turning it down to the point where it was background noise.

With another sigh, I sat at my computer. Naturally, the screen was covered in pop-up ads. Closing all the windows, I eventually made it to a search engine. I typed in one word: Vampire.

When the results came up, there was a lot to sift through — everything from movies and TV shows to role-playing games, local-ish underground metal, and goth cosmetic brands, etcetera.

Then I found a promising site — Vampires A to Z. I waited impatiently for it to load. Soon, a simple white background with black text appeared. Two quotes greeted me on the home page:

‘Throughout the vast shadowy world of ghosts and demons there is no figure so terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred, yet fight with such fearful fascination, as the vampire, who is himself neither ghost nor demon, but yet who partakes the dark natures and possesses the mysterious and terrible qualities of both.’ — Rev. Montague Summers

And,

‘If there is in this world a well-attested account, it is that of the vampires. Nothing is lacking: official reports, affidavits of well-known people, of surgeons, of priests, of magistrates; the judicial proof is most complete. And with all that, who is there who believes in vampires?’

— Rousseau

The rest of the site was an alphabetized listing of all the different myths of vampires held throughout the world. The first I clicked on, the Danag, was a Filipino vampire supposedly responsible for planting taro on the islands long ago. The myth continued that the Danag worked with humans for many years, but the partnership ended one day when a woman cut her finger and a Danag sucked her wound, enjoying the taste so much that it drained her body completely of blood. Or, the Manananggal who posed as a beautiful woman until she revealed herself as a terrible winged demon, feeding on pregnant women and eating children.

I read carefully through the descriptions, looking for anything that sounded familiar. Many of the stories involved bodiless spirits and warnings against improper burials. There wasn't much that sounded _Dracula_ or _Interview With a Vampire_ , and only a very few, like the Hebrew Estrie and the Polish Upier, were even preoccupied with drinking blood.

Only three entries really caught my attention: the Romanian Varacolaci, a powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful, pale-skinned human, the Slovak Nelapsi, a creature so strong and fast it could massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight, and one other, the Stregoni benefici. About them, there was only one brief sentence:

‘Stregoni benefici: An Italian vampire, said to abstain from consuming human blood and flesh alike. Declaring themselves the enemy of any evolved being who doesn’t do the same.’

Overall, though, there was little that coincided with Jacob's stories or my own observations. I'd made a little catalog in my mind as I'd read and carefully compared it with each myth. Speed, strength, beauty, pale skin, eyes that shift color; and then Jacob's criteria: blood drinkers, aversion to the werewolf, cold-skinned, and immortal. There were very few myths that matched even one factor.

And then another problem, one that I'd remembered by cultural osmosis, that I'd seen and was backed up by today's reading — vampires couldn't come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to a cinder. They only came out at night.

I felt an unusual wave of aggravation, I snapped off the computer's main power switch, not waiting to shut things down properly. I was overwhelmed with embarrassment. It was all so _stupid_ . I was sitting in my room, researching _vampires_. Because of a legend, my friend told me. What was wrong with me? I blamed Forks and cursed the entire sodden Olympic Peninsula.

I had to get out of the house, but there was nowhere I wanted to go that didn't involve a three-day drive. I pulled on my boots anyway, unclear where I was headed, and went downstairs. I shrugged into my raincoat without checking the weather and stomped out the door.

It was overcast, but not raining yet. I ignored my truck and started east on foot, angling across Charlie's yard toward the ever-encroaching forest. It didn't take long till I was deep enough for the house and the road to be invisible, for the only sound to be the squish of the damp earth under my feet and the sudden cries of the jays.

There was a thin ribbon of a trail that led through the forest here, or I wouldn't risk wandering on my own like this. My sense of direction was hopeless; I could get lost in much less helpful surroundings. The trail wound deeper and deeper into the forest, mostly east as far as I could tell. It snaked around the Sitka spruces and the hemlocks, the yews, and the maples. I only vaguely knew the names of the trees around me, and all I knew was due to Charlie pointing them out to me from the cruiser window in earlier days. There were many I didn't know, and others I couldn't be sure about because they were so covered in green parasites.

I followed the trail as long as my anger at myself pushed me forward. As that started to ebb, I slowed. A few drops of moisture trickled down from the canopy above me, but I couldn't be certain if it was beginning to rain or if they were simply pools leftover from yesterday, held high in the leaves above me, slowly dripping their way back to the earth. A recently fallen tree — I knew it was recent because it wasn't entirely carpeted in moss — rested against the trunk of one of her sisters, creating a sheltered little bench just a few safe feet off the trail. I stepped over the ferns and sat carefully, making sure my jacket was between the damp seat and my clothes wherever they touched, and leaned my hooded head back against the living tree.

This was the wrong place to have come. I should have known, but where else was there to go? The forest was deep green and far too much like the scene in last night's dream to allow for peace of mind. Now that there was no longer the sound of my soggy footsteps, the silence was piercing. The birds were quiet, too, the drops increasing in frequency, so it must be raining above. The ferns stood higher than my head, now that I was seated, and I knew someone could walk by on the path, three feet away, and not see me.

Here in the trees, I found, it was much easier to believe in superstition and the unknown. Nothing had changed in this forest for thousands of years, and all the myths and legends of a hundred different lands seemed much more likely in this green haze than they had in my clear-cut bedroom.

First, I had to decide if it was possible that what Jacob had said about the Cullens could be true. But, before that, I guess I have to ask myself if I think vampires were real and, if they _were_ , what else is?

I gave myself a solid ‘maybe’ on if I believed in vampires, yet I couldn’t land on a solid answer about the Cullens. So was there no rational explanation for how I was alive at this moment? Edward wasn’t near to me when Tyler’s van spun out, yet he pulled me away in a matter of seconds. An Edward-sized dent was left on the side of the car and he walked away with nary a scratch. I registered everything else weird with him: eye color shifting between black to gold, hypnotic stare, frigid skin. And the small things that dawned on me slowly — how they never seemed to eat, the disturbing grace with which they moved. He spoke occasionally with unfamiliar cadences and accents, phrases that probably haven’t been used for decades. He had skipped class the day we'd done blood typing. He hadn't said no to the beach trip till he heard it was in La Push. He seemed to know what everyone around him was thinking. He told me flat out he was dangerous…

I took it for dramatics. Who wouldn’t? Maybe still is.

Could the Cullens be inhuman?

I couldn’t speak for his family but, if anything at all, in my gut, I knew Edward was something unnatural, occult even. To what degree? I don’t know. Nor did I know if I wanted to find out.

So then — maybe. That would have to be my answer for now. What was I going to do if it was true?

If Edward was— let’s say — _phantoml_ y. Then what should I do? Involving someone else was definitely out. I couldn't even believe it myself; anyone I told would have me committed.

Only two options seemed practical. The first was to take his advice: to be smart, to avoid him as much as possible. To pretend there was an impenetrably thick glass wall between us in the one class where we were forced together. To tell him to leave me alone — and mean it this time.

I was gripped in a sudden agony of despair at the thought of leaving him alone. But I couldn’t tell if that pain was selfish or not. Did I want to stay friends because I considered him a puzzle or, did I assume he would want friends outside his family as everyone would?

He'd done nothing to hurt me so far but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t ever. Do I stay until he possibly hurts me? But him hurting me could be my grizzly death. What kind of emotional toll would my leaving bring? Should I just wait it out until I move again?

The dark Edward in my dream last night might’ve been a reflection of my fears and not Edward himself. Even so, what if it wasn’t?

Was I in too deep? Was this a long con for him to eventually eat me? 

I shivered at the thought. I couldn’t think about that. Not here, alone in the darkening forest. Not while the rain made it dim as twilight under the canopy and pattered like footsteps across the matted earthen floor. Rose quickly from my place of concealment, worried that somehow the path would have disappeared with the rain.

But it was there, safe and clear, winding its way out of the dripping green maze. I followed it hastily, my hood pulled close around my face, becoming surprised, as I nearly ran through the trees, at how far I had come. I started to wonder if I was heading out at all or following the path farther into the confines of the forest. Before I could get too panicky, though, I began to glimpse some open spaces through the webbed branches. And then I could hear a car passing on the street, and I was free, Charlie's lawn stretched out in front of me, the house beckoning me, promising warmth and dry socks.

It was just noon when I got back inside. I went upstairs and got dressed for the day, jeans and a t-shirt since I was staying indoors. It didn't take too much effort to concentrate on my task for the day, a paper on Macbeth that was due Wednesday. I settled into outlining a rough draft contentedly, more serene than I'd felt since... well, since Thursday afternoon, if I was being honest.

That had always been my way, though. Making decisions was the painful part for me, the part I agonized over. But once the decision was made, I simply followed through — usually with relief that the choice was made. Sometimes the relief was tainted by despair, like my decision to come to Forks. 

And so the day was quiet, productive — I finished my paper before eight. Charlie came home with a large catch, and I made a mental note to pick up a book of recipes for fish while I was in Seattle next week. I’ll be hanging out in close quarters with a phantom all day next Saturday. The idea of it made me let out a delirious laugh.

I slept dreamlessly that night, exhausted from beginning my day so early, and sleeping so poorly the night before. I woke, for the second time since arriving in Forks, to the bright yellow light of a sunny day. I skipped to the window, stunned to see that there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and those there were just fleecy little white puffs that couldn't possibly be carrying any rain. I opened the window — surprised when it opened silently, without sticking, not having opened it in who knows how many years — and sucked in the relatively dry air. It was nearly warm and hardly windy at all.

Charlie was finishing breakfast when I came downstairs, and he picked up on my mood immediately. "Nice day out," he commented. 

"Mhm," I nodded.

He smiled, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges. When Charlie smiled, it was easier to see why he and my mother had jumped too quickly into an early marriage. Most of the young romantic he'd been in those days had faded before I'd known him, as the curly brown hair — the same color, if not the same texture, as mine — had dwindled, slowly revealing more and more of the shiny skin of his forehead. But when he smiled I could see a little of the man who had run away with Renée when she was just two years older than I was now.

I ate breakfast cheerily, watching the dust moats stirring in the sunlight that streamed in the back window. Charlie called out a goodbye, and I heard the cruiser pull away from the house. I hesitated on my way out the door, hand on my rain jacket. It would be tempting fate to leave it home. With a sigh, I folded it over my arm and stepped out into the brightest light I'd seen in months.

By dint of much elbow grease, I was able to get both windows in the truck almost completely rolled down. I was one of the first ones to school; I hadn't even checked the clock in my hurry to get outside. I parked and headed toward the seldom-used picnic benches on the south side of the cafeteria. The benches were still a little damp, so I sat on my jacket, glad to have a use for it. I opened my Trig book to look busy while I thought about my ultimate fate.

"Bella!" I heard Mike call.

I looked around to realize that the school had become populated while I'd been sitting there. Everyone was in t-shirts, some even in shorts though the temperature couldn't be over sixty. Mike was coming toward me in khaki shorts and a striped Rugby shirt, waving.

"Hey, Mike," I called, waving back, unable to be half-hearted on a morning like this. He came to sit by me, the tidy spikes of his hair shining golden in the light, his grin stretching across his face. He was so delighted to see me, I couldn't help but feel gratified.

"I never noticed before — your hair has red in it," he commented, catching between his fingers a strand that was fluttering in the light breeze.

"Just ‘cause of the sun." He tried to tuck the lock behind my ear, I twitched away from him feeling violently invaded.

He saw my expression and changed the subject, "Great day, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I was closed off at this point.

"What did you do yesterday?" His tone was too proprietary.

"I started and finished my essay."

"Oh yeah — that's due Wednesday, right?"

"Um, Thursday, I think." I lied, it was due Wednesday. 

“Okay, I have some time, at least. What’d you write yours on?"

"The themes of possessive masculinity in Macbeth and how that leads to his eventual demise."

He stared at me like I'd just spoken in Latin. "I guess I'll have to get to work on that tonight," he said, deflated. "I was going to ask if you wanted to go out."

Are you _fucking_ _kidding_ me? “No.” 

His face fell. "What, why?" he asked, his eyes guarded. 

“Because _I’m_ not into you!" I nearly shouted, "but you know who is? _Jessica_."

He was bewildered, obviously not thinking in that direction at all. "Jessica?"

Yes, Mike, are you blind?"

"Oh," he exhaled — clearly dazed. I took advantage of that to leave.

He tagged along, walking in silence to building three, and his expression was distracted. I hoped whatever thoughts he was immersed in were leading him away from me.

When I saw Jessica in Trig, she was bubbling with enthusiasm. She, Angela, and Lauren were going to Port Angeles tonight to go dress shopping for the dance, and she wanted me to come, too, even though I didn't need one. I was indecisive. It would be nice to get out of town with some friends, but Lauren would be there. And who knew what I could be doing tonight... But that was definitely the wrong path to let my mind wander down. Of course, I was happy about the sunlight. But that wasn't completely responsible for the euphoric mood I was in, not even close.

So I gave her a maybe, telling her I'd have to talk with Charlie first.

She talked of nothing but the dance on the way to Spanish, continuing as if without an interruption when class finally ended, five minutes late, and we were on our way to lunch. I was far too lost in my own frenzy of anticipation to notice much of what she said. I was painfully eager to see not just him but all the Cullens — to compare them with the new suspicions that plagued my mind. As I crossed the threshold of the cafeteria, I felt the first true tingle of fear slither down my spine and settle in my stomach. Would they be able to know what I was thinking? And then a different feeling jolted through me — would Edward be waiting to sit with me again?

As was my routine, I glanced first toward the Cullens' table. A shiver of panic trembled in my stomach as I realized it was empty. With dwindling hope, my eyes scoured the rest of the cafeteria, hoping to find him alone, waiting for me. The place was nearly filled — Spanish had made us late — but there was no sign of Edward or any of his family. Desolation hit me with crippling strength.

I sulked along behind Jessica, too distracted to listen anymore.

We were late enough that everyone was already at our table. I avoided the empty chair next to Mike in favor of one by Angela. I vaguely noticed that Mike held the chair out politely for Jessica and that her face lit up in response.

Angela asked a few quiet questions about the Macbeth paper, which I answered as naturally as I could. She, too, invited me to go with them tonight, and I agreed now, grasping at anything to distract myself. I realized I'd been holding on to a last shred of hope when I entered Biology, saw his empty seat, and felt a new wave of disappointment.

The rest of the day passed slowly, dismally. In Gym, we had a lecture on the rules of badminton, the next torture they had lined up for me. But at least it meant I got to sit and listen instead of stumbling around on the court. The best part was the coach didn't finish, so I got another day off tomorrow. Never mind that the day after they would arm me with a racket before unleashing me on the rest of the class.

I was glad to leave campus, so I would be free to mope before I went out tonight with Jessica and company. But right after I walked in the door of Charlie's house, Jessica called to cancel our plans. I tried to be happy that Mike had asked her out to dinner but my enthusiasm sounded false in my own ears. She rescheduled our shopping trip for tomorrow night.

Which left me with little in the way of distractions. I had fish marinating for dinner, with a salad and bread leftover from the night before, so there was nothing to do there. I spent a focused half-hour on homework, but then I was through with that, too. I checked my email, reading the backlog of letters from my mother, getting more curt as they progressed to the present. I sighed and typed a quick response.

Mom,

Sorry. I've been out. I went to the beach with some friends. And I had to write a paper. It's sunny outside today - I know, I'm shocked, too - so I'm going to go outside and soak up as much vitamin D as I can. I love you,

Bella.

I decided to kill an hour with non-school-related reading. I had a small collection of books that came with me to Forks. I reached out without looking to play Book Roulette. I pulled out _Salem’s Lot_ and bitterly threw it at the wall. I opted for the book next to it, _The Martian Chronicles_ , and headed to the backyard, grabbing a ragged old quilt from the linen cupboard at the top of the stairs on my way down.

Outside in Charlie's small, square yard, I folded the quilt in half and laid it out of the reach of the trees' shadows on the thick lawn that would always be slightly wet, no matter how long the sun shone. I lay on my stomach, crossing my ankles in the air, flipping through the different novels in the book, trying to decide which would occupy my mind the most thoroughly. 

After a while, I couldn’t concentrate, so I put the book down and rolled over onto my back. I pushed my sleeves up as high as they would go and closed my eyes. I would think of nothing but the warmth on my skin, I told myself severely. The breeze was still light, but it blew tendrils of my hair around my face, and that tickled a bit. I pulled all my hair over my head, letting it fan out on the quilt above me, and focused again on the heat that touched my eyelids, my cheekbones, my nose, my lips, my forearms, my neck, soaked through my light shirt...

The next thing I was conscious of was the sound of Charlie's cruiser turning onto the bricks of the driveway. I sat up in surprise, realizing the light was gone, behind the trees, and I had fallen asleep. I looked around, muddled, with the sudden feeling that I wasn't alone.

"Charlie?" I asked. But I could hear his door slamming in front of the house. I jumped up, gathering the now-damp quilt and my book. I ran inside to get some oil heating on the stove, realizing that dinner would be late. Charlie was hanging up his gun belt and stepping out of his boots when I came in.

"Sorry, Dad, dinner's not ready yet — I fell asleep outside." I stifled a yawn.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I wanted to catch the score on the game, anyway."

I watched TV with Charlie after dinner, for something to do. There wasn't anything on that I wanted to watch, but he knew I didn't like baseball, so he turned to some sitcom that neither of us ended up enjoying. He seemed happy, though, to be doing something together. And it felt good, despite my depression, to make him happy.

"Dad," I said during a commercial, "Jessica and Angela are going to look at dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and they wanted me to help them choose... do you mind if I go with them?"

"Jessica Stanley?" he asked.

"And Angela Weber." I sighed as I gave him the details.

"Well, okay. It's a school night, though."

"We'll leave right after school, so we can get back early. You'll be okay for dinner, right?"

"Bells, I fed myself for seventeen years before you got here," he reminded me.

"I don't know how you survived," I joked.

It was sunny again in the morning. I awakened with renewed hope that I grimly tried to suppress. I dressed for the warmer weather in a deep blue V-neck shirt — something I'd worn in the dead of winter in Phoenix.

I had planned my arrival at school so that I barely had time to make it to class. With a sinking heart, I circled the full lot looking for a space, while also searching for the silver Volvo that was clearly not there. I parked in the last row and hurried to English, arriving breathless, but subdued, before the final bell.

It was the same as yesterday — I just couldn't keep little sprouts of hope from budding in my mind, only to have them squashed painfully as I searched the lunchroom in vain and sat at my empty Biology table.

The Port Angeles scheme was back on again for tonight and made all the more relaxing by the fact that Lauren wasn’t coming this time. I was anxious to get out of town so I could stop glancing over my shoulder, wondering if I’d see him. I vowed to myself that I would be in a good mood tonight and not ruin Angela's or Jessica's enjoyment in the dress hunting. Maybe I could do some clothes shopping as well. I refused to think that I might be shopping alone in Seattle this weekend. Surely he wouldn't cancel without at least telling me.

After school, Jessica followed me home in her old white Mercury so that I could ditch my books and truck. I brushed through my hair quickly when I was inside, feeling a slight lift of excitement as I contemplated getting out of Forks. I switched my scruffy wallet from my school bag to a purse I rarely used, and ran out to join Jessica. We went to Angela's house next, and she was waiting for us. My excitement increased exponentially as we actually drove out of the town limits. 


	8. Theory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella was right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was the hardest to rewrite so far. I nearly quit because the original chapter was so personally upsetting for me.  
> also bella is bisexual now :)

**Jess drove faster than** the Chief, so we made it to Port Angeles by four. It had been a while since I'd genuinely looked forward to being out with friends. We listened to whatever came on the radio while Jessica chattered about the boys we hung out with. Jessica's dinner with Mike had gone very well, and she was hoping that by Saturday night they would have progressed to the first kiss stage. Angela was passively happy to be going to the dance but said she realized she wasn’t really interested in Eric. Jess tried to get her to confess who her type was, but I interrupted with a question about dresses to spare her the interrogation. Angela threw a grateful glance my way.

Port Angeles was a beautiful little tourist trap, much more polished and quaint than Forks. But Jessica and Angela knew it well, so they didn't plan to waste time on the picturesque boardwalk by the bay. Jess drove straight to the one big department store in town, which was a few streets in from the bay area's visitor-friendly face.

The dance was billed as semi-formal, and we weren't exactly sure what that meant. Both Jessica and Angela seemed surprised and bordered on disbelieving when I told them I'd never been to a school dance in Phoenix.

"Didn't you ever go with a boyfriend or something?" Jess asked dubiously as we walked through the front doors of the store.

"No, really," I tried to convince her.

"I've never had a boyfriend or anything. I didn’t go out much."

"How come?" Jessica demanded.

"I was never really interested, and no one ever asked," I answered honestly.

She looked skeptical. "People ask you out here," she reminded me, "and you tell them no." We were in the women’s section now, scanning the racks for dressy clothes.

"Well, except for Tyler," Angela amended quietly. 

“ _What_?” I questioned.

"Tyler’s been telling everyone he's taking you to prom," Jessica informed me with genuine surprise. 

"He said _what_?" I got progressively louder.

"I told you it wasn't true," Angela murmured to Jessica.

I fell silent, still lost in shock that was quickly turning to irritation. But we had found the dress racks, and now we had work to do.

"That's why Lauren doesn't like you," Jessica giggled while we pawed through the clothes.

I ground my teeth. "Do you think that if I ran him over with my truck he’d get the hint I’m not into him?”

“Maybe.” Angela snickered. She had a sweet boisterous laugh despite herself and it made my brain fire-off at all cylinders with joy, hearing it.

The dress selection wasn't large, but both of them found a few things to try on. I sat on a cushy ottoman just outside the dressing room, by the three-way mirror, trying to not think about Tyler while waiting.

Honestly, the whole process was much shorter and easier than the shopping trips I'd taken with Renée at home. I guess there was something to be said for limited choices. And decisiveness. 

Jess was torn between two — one a long, strapless, basic black moment, the other a knee-length, flowy, electric blue with spaghetti straps. I encouraged her to go with the blue ‘cause they matched her eyes well. Angela chose a pale pink dress that draped around her tall frame gorgeously and brought out honey tints in her light brown hair. Something about Angela in that moment kind of enchanted me, maybe I was just excited to see my friends all dressed up but it suddenly clicked in my brain how pretty she was.

We headed over to shoes and accessories. While they tried things on I merely watched and gave my opinion. The girls-night high was wearing off in the wake of my thinking about Tyler trying to mentally strong-arm me into being his prom date. _What a bitchfuck._ It had left room for the gloom to migrate back in. 

Jessica had drifted to the jewelry counter and Angela and I were alone.

"Angela?" I began, hesitant, while she was trying on a pair of pink heels — though she didn’t like Eric in that way, she was excited to go out with someone who didn’t mind how tall she was. It sucks she has to consider things like that. She was 6’0 ft and the heels would make her a solid 6’3. 

"Yes?" She held her leg out to get a better view of the shoe.

I didn’t really know what I was going to say, I think I just wanted to talk, "I like those."

"I think I'll get them — though they'll never match anything but the one dress," she mused.

"They're on sale, you should do it." I encouraged, we smiled and beamed at each other for a long moment then awkwardly looked away, she put the lid back on a box that contained more practical-looking off-white shoes.

I tried it again. "Um, Angela..." She looked up curiously. "I feel like we should know each other better," — I kept my eyes on the shoes — "I mean, I consider you a friend but we don’t talk much." 

"Oh, yeah, I consider you my friend, too, I’m just bad at, like, talking to people and not being boring." she hesitated. 

“Don’t be so mean to yourself, shy people are usually the most interesting.”

“Not me. Read mostly or do grandma stuff like knitting in my free time.”

“What’s your favorite book?”

“‘ _Choke’_ by Palahniuk. It’s such an impossible book to describe, but I love it.”

I wasn’t able to say much before Jessica returned to show us the rhinestone jewelry she'd found to match her silver shoes.

Since the dress shopping hadn't taken as long as we'd expected, we had time to kill before we went to dinner. Jess and Angela were going to take their dresses back to the car and then walk down to the bay. I told them I would meet them at the restaurant in an hour — I wanted to look for a bookstore. They were both willing to come with me, but I encouraged them to go have fun; I preferred to book shop alone. They begrudgingly agreed to let me go and walked off in the other direction.

I had no trouble finding the bookstore, but it wasn't what I was looking for. The windows were full of crystals, dream-catchers, and books about spiritual healing. Through the glass, I could see a fifty-year-old woman with long, gray hair worn straight down her back, clad in a dress right out of the Haight-Ashbury days, smiling welcomingly from behind the counter. I thought hard about whether to go in or not but I didn’t want to try my luck looking for another bookstore in a town I didn’t know.

The store reeked of lavender incense and potpourri, but it wasn’t headache-inducing...yet. The woman doesn’t move from behind the counter, “Welcome, sunshine!”

“Hello.” I gave a timid wave.

“What’re you looking for today?”

“Uh, I...I don’t really know.”

She lit up, “My favorite type of customer is the kind looking for answers.”

My brain was too scrambled to do anything but fill up dead air, “Yeah, I’m sure that’s exciting.”

“Come here, darling, let me read you.” 

I complied. I knew she didn’t mean any harm but I was nervous as all hell.

“Are you open-minded?” She continued.

“I hope so.” 

She laughed and took my hand in hers and studied my face, “What’s your name?”

“Isabella.”

“Isabella. How beautiful, I’m Marjorie.”

I nodded. As she continued to stare, I felt a calming warmth glow through me. It might’ve been the incense finally getting to me. 

She spoke, finally, “You have someone watching over you, Isabella. But that doesn’t always mean it’s what you need.” 

My expression changed to something along the lines of fear, of what, I don’t know. Being seen, possibly. 

“Did I get it?”

“M–Maybe.”

“Sometimes people may force their will upon you out of a sense of love or duty. Even if the intentions are good, you mustn't let go of your autonomy if you don’t see fit.”

The bell above the door chimed and she let go of my hand to greet the new customer, “Good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon,” A honey-colored voice lilted, “Do you, uh–– Bella?”

_Are you_ absolutely _kidding me?_ I turned to face him, feigning happiness. “Edward? Wow, I didn’t know you were in town today.”

He shrugged, “Small world.”

It’s not like I could be outwardly rude to him without one of us getting kicked out, so I took this as a chance to leave the store on my own accord, “We should hang out, I don’t have anything to do for the next hour.”

“I’d love to.” He smiled.

I turned back to Marjorie and silently thanked her. Before I got out the door she called, “Remember what I said, Isabella.”

In earnest, I said, “I will.”

I started a fight as soon as we got out of earshot, “How the fuck did you know I was here?”

He had that cocky fucking smirk and tried to brush it off, “Like I said, _Isabella,_ it’s a small world.”

“ _Don’t_ call me that and don’t you _dare_ imply this was a coincidence, Cullen.”

“How do you know it wasn’t?”

“Coincidences don’t happen around you.”

“You’re right.” He laughed, “I may have heard you were planning to come here, and I _may_ have wanted to keep an eye on you.”

“Ex _cuse_ me?” 

“Bella, you don’t have a great track record of avoiding disaster, especially alone.”

“Fuck you, fucker!” I shouted and stomped away to what I assumed was the south, I didn’t know which way we started walking but getting lost felt like a better option than being around the world’s best stalker.

“Bella!” He caught up with me, I didn’t expect him not to, “I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not,” I didn’t look at him.

“Look, I just–”

“I know _,_ Edward. I _know._ You don’t want to see me hurt.”

Silence, then, “Is that so bad?” 

“It is if it scares me.”

“I scare you?” He sounded wounded. I finally looked at him but I refused to back down.

“How did you find me in that store?”

“I saw you through the window.”

“Bullshit. I’m a generic, 5’5, brown-haired, white girl. _Half_ of the women in Washington look like me _and_ I was facing away from the window.”

He opened his mouth to say something but he was caught, I interjected before he could get a word in, “Edward, tell me the truth.”

He shook his head, “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“I’ve seen you do stranger things than follow me around.”

He didn’t look at me, “Let’s sit down somewhere.”

“Edw–”

“I’ll tell you, seriously, I just want to sit down.”

We left the dense storefronts, a few minutes of heavily silent walking in vague directions until we hit the sand. We found a semi-private place to sit, backs against one of those chunky wood fences. Edward had his legs pressed against his chest. 

“So,” I began.

“Right,” He stuttered, trying to put together his thoughts, “You have to trust me.”

I agreed, he continued, “What if someone could know what people are thinking, read minds, you know — with a few exceptions.”

“Exceptions?”

“Yeah, just one, really. Wouldn’t that make you crazy? Being able to know _everybody’s_ thoughts and then someone comes around and they’re basically a brick wall. Wouldn’t you do anything to figure them out?”

“Maybe,” I responded carefully, I don’t think I’d do it exactly the way he did, “Is that what’s happening with you? You can read minds but not _my_ mind?”

“But that’s the thing, it’s just your mind I can’t read, I can feel what you feel.”

“Isn’t that the same thing.”

“No, it’s a lot more confusing, actually.”

“That’s how you know whenever I’m in trouble?”

“Yeah, but only when you’re aware of what’s happening around you. The car accident was kind of a fluke. Pure luck I was there and paying attention or...you know.”

I cringe at the thought of my own mortality.

"I followed you to Port Angeles," he admitted, speaking in a rush. "Because I was scared. It’s kind of like a radio wave thing, I have to tune in to truly feel you but if you go too far out of the way, I can’t. I've never been so obsessed with keeping a specific person alive before.”

Something in me wanted to burst into tears, I couldn’t figure out if I was afraid or cared for at that moment, “Edward, listen to me.”

He nodded, I said, “You can’t keep following me like this.” 

“But–”

“ _No,_ it’s a huge breach of boundaries. It’s unhealthy for me and _especially_ for you. I don’t like being followed no matter the reason and you’re going to worry yourself into an early grave catastrophizing about me 24/7.” 

He chuckled and the vampire theory re-clicked in my head. 

Not a vampire, just _telepathic_ or, Christ, maybe both.

“I’m sorry, Bella.” 

He said that a lot for someone who rarely meant it.

There was a long silence, I didn’t want him to talk anymore unless it was on my terms. I guess he felt that from me and he stayed quiet until I said something.

“I have another theory about you.”

He chuckled nervously, “What?” 

“I didn’t come up with it on my own, I should say. My friend, Jacob Black, we’ve known each other since we were kids and we were talking, right–”

“And you told him about me?”

“No, not exactly. See, his dad is one of the Quileute elders.” His confused expression froze in place, “And we were talking about legends and stuff like that...he told me one about a clan of vampires who lived here that don’t harm humans.”

“And?”

“I think you’re a vampire.”

“Is that your final answer?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve caught me, Bella.” 

It was dark out. I barely even noticed. It took me a moment to fully comprehend, “Wait, what? Hold on, you mean you’re actually–”

“Isn’t that what you want to hear?”

“Are you just telling me you’re a vampire because you think it’s what I _want_?”

“No, I’m telling you because it’s true.”

I mean, I had believed my theory but to have it confirmed is…

“Unbelievable. This is unbelievable– it’s fucking crazy!” I was talking a mile a minute. To be confronted by your own conspiracy– to be proven right feels almost worse than never knowing.

“You were the one with the idea!” He rebuked.

“Yeah, but,” My voice broke, “could you prove it?”

“What do you mean ‘ _prove it’_ I thought you already believed it?”

“I _do_ but I didn’t think I’d get this far!”

Edward groaned and dropped his head in his hands, “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know, man, something, uh, _vampy_.”

He hummed in his arms then lifted his face, “Okay, check this out.”

It was so brief, blink and you’d miss it but Edward’s face distorted into something I could only describe as _gruesome_. His eyes pooled black, starting from the pupil and soon overtook the scleras. His face hallowed and elongated, growing even paler. A dark, spade-shaped bat nose began to take shape on his face and, to top it all off, long needle-like fangs sprouted from his top and bottom incisors. 

I screamed and reeled back onto the sand.

His face scrunched back into its normal baby-ish visage, “See?”

I nodded, still gasping for breath. Edward curled into himself again, he looked at me with worried eyes. I rubbed my face with my sleeves and shivered.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” My voice was shaking irrevocably, “Yeah, I mean, I asked for it, right?”

“Are you afraid of me?”

The age-old question, “I’m more afraid of being followed by you than your freaky bat face.”

He laughed at that, I did too. However, I was still shaking.

“Jessica and Angela are probably wondering where you are.”

“Wh–” I totally forgot about them, “Holy shit, they probably think I got kidnaped or something!”

I jumped off the ground and Edward followed, “I’ll help you find them.”

"Jess! Angela!" I yelled after them, waving when they turned. They rushed back to me, the pronounced relief on both their faces simultaneously changing to surprise as they saw who I was standing next to. They hesitated a few feet from us.

"Where have you been?" Jessica's voice was suspicious.

"At the bookshop," Then added sheepishly. "But I ran into Edward." I gestured toward him.

“Oh, uh, cool.” I could tell by her voice Jessica did _not_ actually think this was cool.

"Bella, we already ate while we were waiting for you — sorry," Angela confessed.

"That's fine,” I was kinda disappointed but it was my fault, “I'm not hungry."

"You should eat something." Edward's voice was low and concerned. 

“We were about to leave but we can totally wait for you.” Angela offered up.

“Don’t bother, guys, Edward can just drive me home.”

"Okay, no problem, I guess..." She bit her lip, trying to figure out from my expression whether that was what I actually wanted. I winked at her. 

"Okay." Angela was quicker than Jessica. "See you tomorrow, Bella... Edward." She grabbed Jessica's hand and pulled her toward the car, which I could see a little ways away, parked across First Street. As they got in, Jess turned and waved, her face eager with curiosity. I waved back, waiting for them to drive away before I turned to face him again. 

“You’re taking me home, I’ll eat later, I swear but I’m honest to god tired.”

He looked dejected but kept a smile on his face, “Whatever you want, Bella.”

Once inside the car, he started the engine and turned the heater on high. It had gotten very cold, and I guessed the good weather was at an end. I sat quietly, dazed, my thoughts incoherent; I think I was finally processing the weight of the night. My hands were folded in my lap, and I was leaning weakly against the seat.

Edward pulled out through the traffic, apparently without a glance, flipping around to head toward the freeway.

Vampires are real.

And I’m sitting next to one.

I’m in a _car_ with a _telepathic_ _vampire_.


	9. Interrogations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotten to the point where I can merge chapters :)

  
  


“So, are you going into shock yet?”

“Maybe a little.”

“What’re you thinking about?”

"How can you come out during the daytime?" 

"Myth." He said pointedly.

I sat up and turned to him, "Burned by the sun?"

"Myth."

"Sleeping in coffins?"

"Myth." He hesitated for a moment, and a peculiar tone entered his voice. "I can't sleep."

It took me a minute to absorb that. "At all?"

"Never," he said, his voice nearly inaudible. His gilded eyes held mine, and I lost my train of thought. I stared at him until he looked away. "You haven't asked me the most important question yet." 

I blinked, "Which is...?"

"Aren’t you concerned about the whole cannibalism thing?" he asked sarcastically.

“Oh, right the blood-drinking,” I whispered.

"Yeah, that." His voice was bleak. 

I flinched. "Well, Jacob said you didn't... hunt _people_. Like, your family wasn't supposed to be dangerous because you only hunted animals."

"He said we weren't dangerous?" His voice was deeply skeptical.

"No, he said you weren't _supposed_ to be. The Quileutes still didn't want you on their land, though.”

He looked forward, but I couldn't tell if he was watching the road or not.

“Why the fuck are you driving so fast?” I snapped. I didn’t even feel the speed until now– I blamed it on vampire magic rather than my own follies. 

“I like to get places quickly.” 

“Slow _down_! We won’t get anywhere if we’re _dead,_ asshole!”

He laughed, “I have good intuition, and, not to mention, I’m already dead, well, _un_ dead.”

“Yeah, well, _I’m_ not, “ I shouted, “ and I sure as hell don’t give a fuck about your intuition –– slow _down_!”

He shrugged and slowed down a good 20mph from where he was before. Still too fast but I’ll take what I can get. 

“God, what’s your problem, man.” I caught my breath.

“Look, there aren’t a lot of things in the world that excites me anymore, but I never get tired of flying down a highway.”

“Then do it on your own time.”

We were both silent then. I watched the headlights twist with the curves of the road. They moved by too fast; it didn't look real, it looked like a video game. I was aware of the time slipping away so quickly, as the black road beneath us. 

"Tell me why you hunt animals instead of people," I went back to prodding him.

"I don't want to be a monster." His voice was very low. 

"But are animals enough?"

He paused. "I can't be sure, of course, but I'd compare it to living on tofu and soy milk; we call ourselves vegetarians, as a joke. It doesn't completely satiate the hunger. But it keeps us strong enough to resist. Most of the time." His tone turned ominous. "Sometimes it's more difficult than others."

"Were you hunting this weekend, with Emmett?" I asked.

"Yes." He paused for a second as if deciding whether or not to say something. "I didn't want to leave, but it was necessary."

I nodded. We were slowing, passing into the boundaries of Forks. It had taken less than twenty minutes.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" I demanded.

"Yes — I have a paper due, too." He smiled. 

“Why do you go to high school? What’s the point when you and siblings could just go to college?”

“Oh, we do,” He said casually, “Every couple of lifetimes we like to switch it up.”

 _Lifetimes,_ Jesus, “Makes sense.” I said stunned. 

We were in front of Charlie's house. The lights were on, my truck in its place, everything utterly normal. It was like waking from a dream. He stopped the car, but I didn't move.

I considered that for a moment, then nodded. I pulled his jacket off, taking one last whiff.

"You can keep it — you don't have a jacket for tomorrow," he reminded me. 

I handed it back to him. "I don't want to have to explain to Charlie."

"Oh, right." He grinned.

I hesitated, my hand on the door handle, trying to figure out what about this moment felt strange. I wasn’t _bad,_ just strange. "Bella?" he asked in a different tone — serious, but hesitant.

"Yes?" I turned back to him too eagerly. 

"Will you promise me something?"

"Sure,”

"Don't go into the woods alone."

I stared at him in blank confusion. "Why?"

He frowned, and his eyes were tight, "Wolves.”

“ _Wolves?_ ” I shuddered slightly at the sudden bleakness in his voice. 

“Yes.”

"Whatever you say."

"I'll see you tomorrow," he sighed, and I knew he wanted me to leave now. So, I did.

"Sleep well," he called.

I was unable to move until my brain had somewhat unscrambled itself. V _ampires are real._ Then I stepped out of the car awkwardly, _that was a vampire._ He waited till I had reached the front door, and then I heard his engine quietly rev. _A vampire told me to sleep well._ I turned to watch the silver car disappear around the corner. 

It was very cold out.

I reached for the key mechanically, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. Charlie called from the living room. "Bella?"

"Yeah, Dad, it's me." I walked in to see him. He was watching a baseball game. 

"You're home early."

"Am I?" I was surprised.

"It's not even eight yet," he told me. "Did you girls have fun?"

"Yeah — it was lots of fun." My head was spinning as I tried to remember all the way back to the girls' night out I had planned. "They both found dresses."

"Are you all right?”

"I'm just tired. I did a lot of walking."

"Well, maybe you should go lie down." He sounded concerned. I wondered what my face looked like.

"I'm just going to call Jessica first."

"Weren't you just with her?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes — but I left my jacket in her car. I want to make sure she brings it tomorrow."

"Well, give her a chance to get home first." 

"Right," I agreed.

I went to the kitchen and fell, exhausted, into a chair. I was really feeling dizzy now. I wondered if I was going to go into shock after all. Get a grip, I told myself.

The phone rang suddenly, startling me. I yanked it off the hook.

"Hello?" I asked breathlessly.

"Bella?"

"Hey, Jess, I was just going to call you."

"You made it home?" Her voice was relieved... and surprised.

"Yes. I left my jacket in your car — could you bring it to me tomorrow?" 

"Sure. But tell me what happened!" she demanded.

"Um, tomorrow — in Trig, okay?"

She caught on quickly. "Oh, is your dad there?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, I'll talk to you tomorrow, then. Bye!" I could hear the impatience in her voice.

"Bye, Jess."

I walked up the stairs slowly, a heavy stupor clouding my mind. I went through the motions of getting ready for bed without paying any attention to what I was doing. It wasn't until I was in the shower — the water too hot, burning my skin — that I realized I was freezing. I shuddered violently for several minutes before the steaming spray could finally relax my rigid muscles. Then I stood in the shower, too tired to move until the hot water began to run out.

I stumbled out, wrapping myself securely in a towel, trying to hold the heat from the water in so the aching shivers wouldn't return. I dressed for bed swiftly and climbed under my quilt, curling into a ball, hugging myself to keep warm. A few small shudders trembled through me.

My mind still swirled dizzily, full of images I couldn't understand, and some I fought to repress. As I fell gradually closer to unconsciousness, I realized I forgot to eat.

  
  


It was very hard, in the morning, to argue with the part of me that was sure last night was a dream. Logic wasn't on my side or common sense. I clung to the parts I couldn't have imagined — like his smell, the grainy feel of the sand, or the fact that I still didn’t have my jacket. I was sure I could never have dreamed those up on my own.

It was foggy and dark outside my window. I dressed in my heavy clothes.

When I got downstairs, Charlie was gone again — I was running later than I'd realized. I grabbed any piece of food I could take with me and hurried out the door. Hopefully, the rain would hold off until I could find Jessica.

It was unusually foggy; the air was almost smoky with it. The mist was ice cold where it clung to the exposed skin on my face and neck. I couldn't wait to get the heat going in my truck. It was such a thick fog that I was a few feet down the driveway before I realized there was a car in it: a silver car. My heart thudded, stuttered, and then picked up again in double time.

I didn't see where he came from, but suddenly he was there, pulling the door open for me.

"Do you want to ride with me today?" he asked, amused by my expression as he caught me by surprise yet again. There was uncertainty in his voice. 

"Yes, thank you," As I stepped into the warm car. This isn’t what he wanted but it was what _I_ wanted.

I noticed his tan jacket was slung over the headrest of the passenger seat. The door closed behind me, and, sooner than should be possible, he was sitting next to me, starting the car.

"I brought the jacket for you. I didn't want you to get sick or something." His voice was guarded. I noticed that he wore no jacket himself, just a light gray knit sweater.

“Thanks.” I pulled the jacket onto my lap, pushing my arms through the too-long sleeves. All of this was so stilted and for what? I felt like we were ignoring the elephant in the room but it wasn’t much of an elephant anymore. I knew. What more was there to it?

We drove through the fog-shrouded streets, always too fast. Last night both our walls were down for the most part. I didn't know if we were still being as candid today. I waited for him to speak.

He turned to smirk at me. "What, no twenty questions today?"

"Don’t my questions bother you?" I asked.

"Not as much as your reactions do." He looked like he was joking, but I couldn't be sure.

I frowned. "Do I react badly?"

"No, I just never know what you’re really thinking.” 

"I always tell you what I'm really thinking." 

"You edit," he accused.

I shrugged and played it coy, “Do I?”

He nodded, his face was slightly exasperated as we drove into the school parking lot. I wasn't late anymore; his lunatic driving had gotten me to school in plenty of time. He met me at the front of the car, staying very close to my side as we walked onto campus. 

Under the shelter of the cafeteria roof's overhang, Jessica was waiting, her eyes about to bug out of their sockets. Over her arm, bless her, was my jacket.

"Hey, Jess," I said when we were a few feet away. "Thanks for remembering." She handed me my jacket without speaking.

"Good morning, Jessica," Edward said politely. It wasn't really his fault that his voice was so irresistible. Or what his eyes were capable of.

"Uh... hi." She shifted her wide eyes to me, trying to gather her jumbled thoughts. "I guess I'll see you in Trig." She gave me a meaningful look, and I suppressed a sigh. What on earth was I going to tell her? I said I’d see her later and she walked away, pausing twice to peek back over her shoulder at us. 

"What are you going to tell her?" Edward murmured.

"A little help?" I pleaded. "What does she want to know?"

He shook his head, grinning wickedly. "That's not fair."

"What do you care about ‘fair’?."

He deliberated for a moment as we walked. We stopped outside the door to my first class.

"She wants to know if we're secretly dating. And she wants to know how you feel about me," he finally said.

“Oh.”

I hurried into class, now I was even more worried about what I was going to say to Jessica. I sat in my usual seat, slamming my bag down in aggravation.

"Morning, Bella," Mike said from the seat next to me. I looked up to see an odd, almost resigned look on his face. "How was Port Angeles?"

"It was great," I finished lamely. "Jessica got a really cute dress."

Mr. Mason called the class to order, asking us to turn in our papers. English and then Gov passed in a blur, while I agonized over the next period.

The fog had almost dissolved by the end of the second hour, but the day was still dark with low, oppressing clouds. I smiled up at the sky.

When I walked into Trig Jessica was sitting in the back row, nearly bouncing off her seat in agitation. I reluctantly went to sit by her, trying to convince myself it would be better to get it over with as soon as possible.

"Tell me everything!" she commanded before I was in the seat. 

"What do you want to know?" I hedged.

"What happened last night?"

"He drove me home."

She glared at me, her expression stiff with skepticism. "He didn’t buy you dinner? How did you get home so fast?"

"He drives like a maniac. And I really just wanted to go home."

"Was it like a date — did you tell him to meet you there?"

I hadn't thought of that. "No — I didn’t know I’d run into him."

Her lips puckered in disappointment at the transparent honesty in my voice. "But he picked you up for school today?" she probed.

"Yes — that was a surprise, too. He noticed I didn't have a jacket last night," I explained.

"So are you going out again?"

"We didn’t go out the first time. We’re friends, we’re hanging out. He offered to drive me to Seattle Saturday because he thinks my truck isn't up to it.

You’re really _just friends_ with Edward Cullen?"

“Yup.” 

She looked at me like I had insulted her, she shook her head, “You and Angela, I don’t get you too. You’re so picky about guys but when a perfectly interested one is _right there_ you get so lukewarm about it.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What about your love life?” She pleaded.

“I know, it’s unfortunate but maybe I just want friends for now.”

She snorted but changed her tune to something more understanding, "I don't know how you're brave enough to be alone with him," she breathed. 

"Huh?”

"He's so... intimidating. I wouldn't know what to say to him." She made a face, probably remembering this morning or last night, when he'd turned the overwhelming force of his eyes on her.

“He’s just kind of a dork.”

Her eyes widened, “A _dork_? What does he like Dungeons and Dragons or something?”

“No, I mean, he’s not dorky but he’s not _intimidating_. He’s just annoying and doesn’t talk to anybody.”

“And you wanna be friends with him still?”

“Yeah.”

Then, thankfully, Mr. Varner called on Jessica for an answer before she could say anything. She didn't get a chance to start on the subject again during class, and as soon as the bell rang, I took evasive action and talked about Mike.

We spent the rest of the walk dissecting sentence structures and most of Spanish on a minute description of Mike's facial expressions. I wouldn't have helped draw it out for as long as I did if I wasn't worried about the subject returning to me.

And then the bell rang for lunch. As I jumped up out of my seat, shoving my books roughly in my bag, my uplifted expression must have tipped Jessica off.

"You're not sitting with us today, are you?" she guessed.

"I don't think so." I couldn't be sure that he wouldn't disappear again. But, of course, outside the door to our Spanish class, leaning against the wall, Edward waited for me. Jessica took one look, rolled her eyes, and departed.

"See you later, Bella." Her voice was thick with implications.

Walking with Edward through the crowded lunchtime rush was a lot like my first day here; everyone stared.

He led the way into the line, still not speaking, though his eyes returned to my face every few seconds, their expression speculative. It seemed to me that irritation was winning out over amusement as the dominant emotion in his face. I fidgeted nervously with the zipper on my jacket.

I stepped up to the counter and filled a tray with food.

He led the way to the same place we'd sat that one time before. From the other end of the long table, a group of seniors gazed at us in amazement as we sat across from each other. Edward seemed oblivious.

“Do you not eat?” I inquired.

“Not typically.”

"I'm curious," I said as I picked up an apple, turning it around in my hands, "what would you do if someone dared you to eat food?"

He hummed, shaking his head. He lifted the slice of pizza off the tray, folded it, and deliberately bit off a mouthful, chewed quickly, and then swallowed. I watched, eyes wide.

"It’s like if someone dared you to eat dirt if you had to, you could." 

I wrinkled my nose. "I did once... on a dare," I admitted. "I wouldn’t do it again.”

He laughed. "I suppose I'm not surprised." Something over my shoulder seemed to catch his attention.

"Jessica's analyzing everything I do — she'll break it down for you later." He pushed the rest of the pizza toward me. The mention of Jessica brought a hint of his former irritation back to his features.

I put down the apple and took a bite of the pizza, looking away, knowing he was about to start.

"I have a question for you." His face was still casual.

"Shoot."

"Do you really need to go to Seattle this Saturday, or was that just an excuse to get out going to the dance?”

“I wanted to go book shopping, look at clothes and all that but it’s nothing I couldn’t do later. I'm open to alternatives," I added. "But I do have a favor to ask."

He looked wary, as he always did when I asked an open-ended question. "What?" 

"Wherever we go, I have to drive."

He frowned. "Why?"

"Well, mostly because when I told Charlie I was going to Seattle, he specifically asked if I was going alone and, at the time, I was. If he asked again, I probably wouldn't lie, but I don't think he will ask again, and leaving my truck at home would bring it up. And also, your driving frightens me."

He rolled his eyes. "Of all the things about me that could frighten you, you worry about my driving." He shook his head. "Won't you want to tell your father that you're spending the day with me?" There was an undercurrent to his question that I didn't understand.

"Less is more and I don’t feel like explaining the entire situation to him." I was definite about that. "What’re you thinking of, anyway?"

"The weather will be nice, so I'll be staying out of the public eye... and you can stay with me if you'd like to. I have something I want to show you." 

I perked up, “What is it?”

“It’s a secret.” 

I exaggerated my hurt, “ _Mean!”_

He laughed loudly and I remembered something I wanted to ask him. I glanced around us, making sure we were well out of anyone's hearing. As I cast my eyes around the room, I caught the eyes of his sister, Alice, staring at me. The others were looking at Edward. I looked away swiftly, back to him.

"What’d you hunt at Goat Rock?”

“Bears.”

"Bears?" I gasped, and he smirked. "You know, bears are not in season," I added sternly, to hide my shock.

"If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons," he informed me. He watched my face with enjoyment as that slowly sank in.

"Grizzly is Emmett's favorite." His voice was still offhand, but his eyes were scrutinizing my reaction. I took another bite of pizza as an excuse to look down. I chewed slowly, and then took a long drink of Coke without looking up.

"So," I said after a moment, finally meeting his now-anxious gaze. "What's your favorite?"

He raised an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth turned down in disapproval. "Mountain lion."

"Ah," I said in a politely disinterested tone, looking for my soda again.

"Of course," he said, and his tone mirrored mine, "we have to be careful not to impact the environment with injudicious hunting. We try to focus on areas with an overpopulation of predators — ranging as far away as we need. There's always plenty of deer and elk here, they do the job, but where's the fun in that?" 

"Where indeed," I murmured.

"Early spring is Emmett's favorite bear season — they're just coming out of hibernation, so they're more irritable." 

"Nothing more fun than an irritated grizzly bear," I agreed, nodding.

He snickered, shaking his head. "Tell me what you're really thinking, please."

"I'm trying to picture it — but I can't," I admitted. 

“If you've ever seen a bear attack on television, you should be able to visualize Emmett hunting."

I couldn't stop the next shiver that flashed down my spine. I peeked across the cafeteria toward Emmett, grateful that he wasn't looking my way. The thick bands of muscle that wrapped his arms and torso were somehow even more menacing now.

“Jesus.”

“Are you regretting your decision?”

I glared at him, “Everyone has the capacity to do harm. If you don’t kill me, someone else might. You have to get it out of your head that you’re a monster just because you have fangs.”

There was a heavy sadness behind Edward’s eyes. He was on his feet in one lithe movement. "We're going to be late."


	10. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella gets busted.

**When I woke the** next morning, I was still tired, but edgy as well. I pulled on my soft turtleneck and loose overalls, sighing as I daydreamed of weather above 50ºF. Breakfast was the usual, quiet event I expected. Charlie fried eggs for himself; I had my bowl of cereal. I wondered if he had forgotten about this Saturday. I tried hard to manifest him not mentioning it.

He didn’t.

Charlie left then, and I went upstairs to brush my teeth and gather my books. When I heard the cruiser pull away, I could only wait a few seconds before I expectedly peeked out of my window. The silver car was already there, waiting in the empty spot on the driveway. I bounded down the stairs and out the front door, wondering how long this bizarre routine would continue.

I shut the door behind me without bothering to lock the dead-bolt. I walked to the car, pausing before opening the door and stepping in. He was smiling, relaxed. It made me unreasonably happy, and just as calm.

"Good morning." His voice was silky. "How are you today?" His eyes roamed over my face as if his question was something more than simple courtesy.

"I’m good, thank you." 

He lingered on the circles under my eyes. "You look tired."

"I couldn't sleep," I confessed.

"Neither could I," he teased as he started the engine. I was becoming used to the quiet purr. I was sure the roar of my truck would scare me, whenever I started to drive it again.

“Give me an estimate of how old you are. Are we talking Bram Stoker old, or Vlad the Impaler _old_?” 

He chuckled, “Trust me, I’m not as old Vlad. I haven’t even been alive a century yet.”

“But you’re close to it?”

He shrugged, he didn’t look like he wanted to go into it much, “I lost count. It’s not important anyway.”

He flipped open a compartment under his car's CD player, blindly pulled out one of thirty or so CDs that were jammed into the small space, and handed it to me. It was a mixtape (or, mix CD, I guess) labeled _GOTH 80-90._ “Put it on, I think you’d like it.” 

I popped it in the CD player and turned the case over to read the tracklist: _Siouxsie, Cure, Nick Cave, Bauhaus, Cocteau Twins, Christian Death_ … so on, so forth. 

“Is this your usual mix?” I teased him but I really did like the music.

He shook his head, “I only put it on when I’m happy.”

“You’re happy?”

“Yeah, for right now anyway.”

“Oh,” I whispered and looked back down at the CD.

“Bella, what’s your favorite color?”

“What?”

“C'mon, it’s not the nuclear codes, I just want to know.”

I rolled my eyes, “I’m partial to lilac but red’s been my favorite for a while. What’s yours?”

“Green,” he said. 

“Opposite of the spectrum. How _symbolic._ ” I laughed.

It continued like that for the rest of the day. While he walked me to English, when he met me after Spanish, all through the lunch hour, he questioned me relentlessly about every insignificant detail of my existence. Movies I'd liked and hated, the few places I'd been and the many places I wanted to go, and books — endlessly books.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd talked so much. I usually felt like I was boring people whenever I spoke, but the absolute absorption of his face, and his never-ending stream of questions, compelled me to continue. 

After school, his questions became different, not as easily answered. He wanted to know what I missed about home, insisting on descriptions of anything he wasn't familiar with. We sat in front of Charlie's house for hours, as the sky darkened and rain plummeted around us in a sudden deluge.

I tried to describe impossible things like the scent of creosote — bitter, slightly resinous, but still pleasant — the high, keening sound of the cicadas in July, the feathery barrenness of the trees, the very size of the sky, extending white-blue from horizon to horizon, barely interrupted by the low mountains covered with purple volcanic rock. The hardest thing to explain was why it was so beautiful to me — to justify a beauty that didn't depend on the sparse, spiny vegetation that often looked half-dead, a beauty that had more to do with the exposed shape of the land, with the shallow bowls of valleys between the craggy hills, and the way they held onto the sun. I found myself using my hands as I tried to describe it to him.

His quiet, probing questions kept me talking freely, forgetting, in the dim light of the storm, to be embarrassed for monopolizing the conversation. Finally, when I had finished detailing my cluttered room at home, he paused instead of responding with another question.

"Are you finished?" I asked.

"Not even close — but your father will be home soon."

"Damn." I sighed. I looked out at the rain- darkened sky, but it gave nothing away. "How late is it?" I wondered out loud as I glanced at the clock. I was surprised by the time — Charlie would be driving home now.

"It's twilight," Edward murmured, looking at the western horizon, obscured as it was with clouds. His voice was thoughtful as if his mind were somewhere far away. I stared at him as he gazed unseeingly out the windshield.

I was still staring when his eyes suddenly shifted back to mine.

"It's the safest time of day for us," he said, answering the unspoken question in my eyes. "The easiest time. But also the saddest, in a way... the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so predictable, don't you think?" He smiled wistfully.

"I like the night. Without it, we’d never see the moon or stars." I frowned. 

"Charlie will be here in a few minutes. So, unless you want to tell him that you'll be with me Saturday..." He raised one eyebrow.

"Thanks, but no thanks." I gathered my books, realizing I was stiff from sitting still so long. He reached across to open my door for me, but his hand froze on the handle. "Not good," he muttered.

"What is it?" I was surprised to see that his jaw was clenched, his eyes disturbed.

He glanced at me for a brief second. "Another complication," he said glumly.

He flung the door open in one swift movement, and then moved, almost cringed, swiftly away from me.

The flash of headlights through the rain caught my attention as a dark car pulled up to the curb just a few feet away, facing us.

"Charlie's around the corner," he warned, staring through the downpour at the other vehicle.

I hopped out at once, despite my confusion and curiosity. The rain was louder as it glanced off my jacket.

I tried to make out the shapes in the front seat of the other car, but it was too dark. I could see Edward illuminated in the glare of the new car's headlights; he was still staring ahead, his gaze locked on something or someone I couldn't see. His expression was a strange mix of frustration and defiance.

Then he revved the engine, and the tires squealed against the wet pavement. The Volvo was out of sight in seconds.

"Hey, Bella," called a familiar, husky voice from the driver's side of the little black car.

"Jacob?" I asked, squinting through the rain. Just then, Charlie's cruiser swung around the corner, his lights shining on the occupants of the car in front of me.

Jacob was already climbing out, his wide grin visible even through the darkness.

In the passenger seat was a much older man, a heavyset man with a memorable face — a face that overflowed, the cheeks resting against his shoulders, with creases running through the russet skin like an old leather jacket. And the surprisingly familiar eyes, black eyes that seemed at the same time both too young and too ancient for the broad face they were set in. Jacob's father, Billy Black. I knew him immediately, though in the more than five years since I'd seen him last I'd managed to forget his name when Charlie had spoken of him my first day here. He was staring at me, scrutinizing my face, so I smiled tentatively at him. His eyes were wide as if in shock or fear, his nostrils flared. My smile faded.

Billy still stared at me with intense, anxious eyes. Could he recognize Edward so easily?

The answer was clear in Billy's eyes. Yes. Yes, he could. 

"Billy!" Charlie called as soon as he got out of the car.

I turned toward the house, beckoning to Jacob as I ducked under the porch. I heard Charlie greeting them loudly behind me.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't see you behind the wheel, Jake," he said disapprovingly.

"We get permits early on the rez," Jacob said while I unlocked the door and flicked on the porch light.

"Sure you do," Charlie laughed.

"I have to get around somehow." I recognized Billy's resonant voice easily, despite the years. The sound of it made me feel suddenly younger, a child.

I went inside, leaving the door open behind me and turning on lights before I hung up my jacket. Then I stood in the door, watching anxiously as Charlie and Jacob helped Billy out of the car and into his wheelchair.

I backed out of the way as the three of them hurried in, shaking off the rain. "This is a surprise," Charlie was saying.

"It's been too long," Billy answered. "I hope it's not a bad time." His dark eyes flashed up to me again, their expression was unreadable.

"No, it's great. I hope you can stay for the game."

Jacob grinned. "I think that's the plan — our TV broke last week."

Billy made a face at his son. "And, of course, Jacob was anxious to see Bella again," he added. Jacob scowled and ducked his head.

"Are you hungry?" I asked, turning toward the kitchen. I was eager to escape Billy's searching gaze.

"Naw, we ate just before we came," Jacob answered.

"How about you, Charlie?" I called over my shoulder as I fled around the corner.

"Sure," he replied, his voice moving in the direction of the front room and the TV. I could hear Billy's chair follow.

The grilled cheese sandwiches were in the frying pan and I was slicing up a tomato when I sensed someone behind me.

"So, how are things?" Jacob asked.

"Pretty good." I smiled. His enthusiasm was hard to resist. "How about you? Did you finish your car?"

"No." He frowned. "I still need parts. We borrowed that one." He pointed with his thumb in the direction of the front yard.

"Sorry. I haven't seen any... what was it you were looking for?"

"Master cylinder." He grinned. "Is something wrong with the truck?" he added suddenly.

"No."

"Oh. I just wondered because you weren't driving it."

I stared down at the pan, pulling up the edge of a sandwich to check the bottom side. "I got a ride with a friend."

"Nice ride." Jacob's voice was admiring. "I didn't recognize the driver, though. I thought I knew most of the kids around here."

I nodded noncommittally, keeping my eyes down as I flipped sandwiches.

"My dad seemed to know him from somewhere."

"Hand me some plates. They're in the cupboard over the sink."

He got the plates in silence. I hoped he would let it drop now.

"So who was it?" he asked, setting two plates on the counter next to me.

I sighed in defeat. "Edward Cullen."

To my surprise, he laughed. I glanced up at him. He looked a little embarrassed.

"Guess that explains it, then," he said. "I wondered why my dad was acting so strange."

"That's right." I faked an innocent expression. "He doesn't like the Cullens."

"I don’t think you should make anything of it," Jacob said.

"You don't think he'd say anything to Charlie?" I couldn't help asking, the words coming out in a low rush.

Jacob stared at me for a moment, and I couldn't read the expression in his dark eyes. "I doubt it," he finally answered. "I think Charlie chewed him out pretty good last time. They haven't spoken much since — tonight is sort of a reunion, I think. I don't think he'd bring it up again."

"Oh," I said, trying to sound indifferent.

I stayed in the front room after I carried the food out to Charlie, pretending to watch the game while Jacob talked at me. 

It was a long night. I had a lot of homework that was going undone, but I was afraid to leave Billy alone with Charlie. Finally, the game ended.

"Are you and your friends coming back to the beach soon?" Jacob asked as he pushed his father over the lip of the threshold.

"I'm not sure," I hedged.

"That was fun, Charlie," Billy said.

"Come up for the next game," Charlie encouraged.

"Sure, sure," Billy said. "We'll be here. Have a good night." His eyes shifted to mine, and his smile disappeared. "You take care, Bella," he added seriously.

"You too," I muttered, looking away.

I headed for the stairs while Charlie waved from the doorway.

"Wait, Bella," he said.

I cringed. Had Billy gotten something in before I'd joined them in the living room?

But Charlie was relaxed, still grinning from the unexpected visit. "I didn't get a chance to talk to you tonight. How was your day?"

"Good." I hesitated with one foot on the first stair, searching for details I could safely share. "My badminton team in gym won all four games."

"Wow, I didn't know you could play badminton."

"Well, actually I can't, but my partner is really good," I admitted. 

"Who is it?" he asked with token interest.

"Mike Newton," I told him reluctantly.

"Oh yeah — you said you were friends with the Newton kid." He perked up. "Nice family." He mused for a minute. "Why didn't you ask him to the dance this weekend?"

"Dad!" I groaned. "He's kind of dating my friend Jessica. Besides, you know I can't dance."

"Oh yeah," he muttered. Then he smiled at me apologetically. "So I guess it's good you'll be gone Saturday... I've made plans to go fishing with the guys from the station. The weather's supposed to be real warm. But if you wanted to put your trip off till someone could go with you, I'd stay home. I know I leave you here alone too much."

"Dad, you're doing a great job." I smiled, hoping my relief didn't show. "I've never minded being alone — I'm too much like you." I winked at him, and he smiled his crinkly-eyed smile.

I slept better that night, too tired to dream again. When I woke to the pearl gray morning, my mood was blissful. I caught myself whistling while I was pulling the front part of my hair back into a barrette, and later again as I skipped down the stairs. Charlie noticed.

"You're cheerful this morning," he commented over breakfast. 

I shrugged. "It's Friday."

Edward picked me up again. 

"How did you sleep?" he asked. I wondered if he had any idea how appealing his voice was.

"Fine. How was your night?"

"Pleasant." His smile was amused, but he soon turned serious, looking like he wanted to say something.

The drive was full of false starts of conversation, I didn’t want to prompt him into saying anything. I waited patiently. We were in the school parking lot before he could get it out.

“I was thinking about what you said a few days ago,” he started, “How ‘I’m not a monster just because I have fangs.”

“Yeah. I still stand by it.” My eyes were on him but he didn’t look at me. He took a deep breath and stared through the windshield at the thick, rolling clouds that seemed to press down, almost within reach.

"When we hunt," he spoke slowly, unwillingly, "we give ourselves over to our senses... govern less with our minds. Especially our sense of smell. If you were anywhere near me when I lost control that way..." He shook his head, still gazing morosely at the heavy clouds.

I kept my expression firmly under control, expecting the swift flash of his eyes to judge my reaction that soon followed. My face gave nothing away.

He continued, “I know everyone can do harm, I try my best not to but, in essence, I’m a wild animal in man’s clothing.”

“That’s not _you_ ,” I felt stupid to argue but I couldn’t help it, “You aren’t an animal, you know right from wrong and you _choose_ right. I know what you’re capable of it’s fucking _scary_ but you’ve lived in society for however long, without incident, I’m assuming, so why are you trying so hard to get rid of me now?”

“I’m afraid.” His face dropped, brow furrowed.

“Of yourself?” 

He shook his head, “I haven’t been so close to someone outside of my family for a while. I don’t want to mess it up. I don’t want to hurt you.”

I threw my arms around him, pulling him into a hug. I don’t know what came over me, I started to tear up. I wanted to say, ‘ _you won’t_ ’ but I didn’t want to lie to him. I have no idea if he was going to hurt me. I only trusted that he wouldn’t.

  
  


At lunch, he began to ask more questions: more about Renée, her hobbies, what we'd done in our free time together. And then the one grandmother I'd known, my few school friends, etcetera. Here was a brief lull.

"I should have let you drive yourself today," he announced, apropos of nothing, while I chewed my bagel.

"Why?" I demanded.

"I'm leaving with Alice after lunch."

"Oh." I blinked, bewildered."That's okay, it's not that far of a walk."

He frowned at me impatiently. "I'm not going to make you walk home. We'll go get your truck and leave it here for you."

"I don't have my key with me," I sighed. "I really don't mind walking."

He shook his head. "Your truck will be here, and the key will be in the ignition — unless you're afraid someone might steal it." He laughed.

“Alright, alright,” I waved it off. I was pretty sure my key was in the pocket of a pair of jeans I wore Wednesday, under a pile of clothes in the laundry room. Even if he broke into my house, or whatever he was planning, he'd never find it. He seemed to feel the challenge in my consent. He smirked, overconfident.

"So where are you going?" I asked as casually as I could manage.

"Hunting," he answered grimly.

“ _Oh._ ”

“Yeah,” his face grew morose and pleading

I looked down, afraid of the persuasive power of his eyes. I refused to be convinced to fear him.

“You can always cancel.”

"I’m not going to," I looked at his face, ignoring his eyes. They seemed to darken in color.

I changed the subject. "What time will I see you tomorrow?" 

"That depends... it's a Saturday, don't you want to sleep in?" he offered.

"No,"

"The same time as usual, then," he decided. "Will Charlie be there?"

"No, he'll be fishing." I beamed at the memory of how conveniently things had worked out. "Why are you going hunting with Alice?" I wondered.

He seemed bemused by my casual reference to his secret realities, "Alice is the most... supportive."

"And the others?" I asked. "What are they?"

His nose twitched for a brief moment. "Cynical, for the most part."

I peeked quickly behind me at his family. They sat staring off in different directions, exactly the same as the first time I'd seen them. Only now they were four; their beautiful, bronze-haired brother sat across from me, his golden eyes troubled.

"They don't like me," I guessed.

"That's not it," he disagreed, but his eyes were too innocent. "They don't understand why I can't leave you alone."

I grimaced. "Neither do I."

Edward shook his head slowly, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling before he met my gaze again. "I told you — you don't see yourself clearly at all. You're not like anyone I've ever known.”

I glared at him, sure he was joking now.

He smiled as he deciphered my expression. "Having the advantages I do," he murmured, touching his forehead discreetly, "I have a better than average grasp of human nature. People are predictable. But with you, I never do what I expect. You always take me by surprise."

“It’s because you have to get by without your telepathy.” His words made me feel like a science experiment. 

“You’re right, you make me feel...almost human.”

I was still staring at the Cullens while he spoke. Suddenly Rosalie, his blond and breathtaking sister, turned to look at me. No, not to look — to glare, with dark, cold eyes. I wanted to look away, but her gaze held me until Edward broke off mid-sentence and made an angry noise under his breath. It was almost a hiss.

Rosalie turned her head, and I was relieved to be free. I looked back at Edward — and I knew he could see the confusion and fear that widened my eyes.

His face was tight as he explained. "I'm sorry about that. She's just worried. You see... it's dangerous for more than just me if..." He looked down.

"If this ends... badly." He dropped his head into his hands. Alice — her short, inky hair in a halo of spiky disarray around her exquisite, elfin face — was suddenly standing behind his shoulder. Her slight frame was willowy, graceful even in absolute stillness. 

He greeted her without looking up "Alice."

"Edward," she answered, her high soprano voice was even more attractive than his.

"Alice, Bella — Bella, Alice," he introduced us, gesturing casually with his hand, a wry smile on his face.

"Hello, Bella." Her brilliant obsidian eyes were unreadable, but her smile was friendly. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Edward flashed a dark look at her.

"Hi, Alice," I tried to be as bright as possible despite being intimidated.

"Meet me at the car," she told him. He nodded.

She left without another word; her walk was so fluid, so sinuous that I felt a sharp pang of infatuation, but it was the kind that poorly hid itself as jealousy.

"Should I say 'have fun,' or is that the wrong sentiment?" I asked, turning back to him.

"No, 'have fun' works as well as anything." He grinned.

"Have fun, then." 


	11. Mind Over Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella gets an invitation

**I woke early, having** slept soundly and dreamlessly. Though I was well-rested, I slipped right back into the same hectic frenzy from the night before. I dressed in a rush, smoothing my collar against my neck, fidgeting with the tan sweater till it hung right over my jeans. I took a swift look out the window to see that Charlie was already gone. A thin, cottony layer of clouds veiled the sky. They didn't look very lasting.

I was heading back downstairs when a quiet knock sounded at the door.

I flew to the door; I had a little trouble with the simple deadbolt, but I yanked the door open at last, and there he was. He wasn't smiling at first — his face was somber. But then his expression lightened as he looked me over, and he laughed. "Good morning," 

"What's wrong?" I glanced down to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything important, like shoes, or pants.

"We match." He laughed again. I realized he had a long, light tan sweater on, with a white-collar showing underneath, and blue jeans. 

“Cute.” 

I locked the door behind me while he walked to the truck. He waited by the passenger door with a martyred expression that was easy to understand.

"I’m not letting you drive," I reminded him smugly, climbing into the driver's seat, and reaching over to unlock his door.

"Where to?" I asked.

"Take the one-oh-one north," he ordered.

It was surprisingly difficult to concentrate on the road while feeling his gaze on my face. I compensated by driving more carefully than usual through the still- sleeping town.

"Were you planning to make it out of Forks before nightfall?"

"This truck is old enough to be your car's grandfather — have some respect," I retorted.

We were soon out of the town limits, despite his negativity. Thick underbrush and green-swathed trunks replaced the lawns and houses.

"Turn right on the one-ten," he instructed just as I was about to ask.

"Now we drive until the pavement ends."

I could hear a smile in his voice, but I was too afraid of driving off the road and proving him right to look over and be sure.

"And what's there, at the pavement's end?" I wondered.

"A trail."

"We're hiking?" I wore the wrong outfit for that.

"Is that a problem?" He sounded as if he'd expected as much.

"No." I tried to make the lie sound confident. But if he thought my truck was slow...

"Don't worry, it's only five miles or so, and we're in no hurry."

Five miles. I didn't answer so that he wouldn't hear my voice crack in panic. Five miles of treacherous roots and loose stones, trying to twist my ankles or otherwise incapacitate me.

We drove in silence for a while as I contemplated the coming horror.

"What are you thinking?" he asked impatiently after a few moments.

“I’m not a good hiker.” 

"I won’t be that bad, I swear. It's a place I like to go when the weather is nice." We both glanced out the windows at the thinning clouds after he spoke.

And then the road ended, constricting to a thin foot trail with a small wooden marker. I parked on the narrow shoulder and stepped out, it was warm now, warmer than it had been in Forks since the day I'd arrived, almost muggy under the clouds. I pulled off my sweater and knotted it around my waist. 

I heard his door slam and looked over to see that he'd removed his sweater, too. He was facing away from me, into the unbroken forest beside my truck.

"This way," he said, glancing over his shoulder at me, he walked into the dark forest.

"The trail?" Panic was clear in my voice as I hurried around the truck to catch up to him.

"I said there was a trail at the end of the road, not that we were taking it." 

"Are you kidding?" I asked desperately.

"I won't let you get lost." He turned then, with a mocking smile.

"If you want me to hack five miles through the jungle before sundown, you'd better start leading the way," I said acidly. He frowned at me, struggling to understand my tone and expression.

He gave up after a moment and led the way into the forest.

It wasn't as hard as I had feared. The way was mostly flat, and he held the damp ferns and webs of moss aside for me. When his straight path took us over fallen trees or boulders, he would help me, lifting me by the elbow, and then releasing me instantly when I was clear.

The hike took me most of the morning, but he never showed any sign of impatience. The forest spread out around us in a boundless labyrinth of ancient trees, and I began to be nervous that we would never find our way out again. He was perfectly at ease, comfortable in the green maze, never seeming to feel any doubt about our direction.

After several hours, the light that filtered through the canopy transformed, the murky olive tone shifting to a brighter jade. The day had turned sunny, just as he'd foretold. For the first time since we'd entered the woods, I felt a thrill of excitement — which quickly turned to impatience.

"Are we there yet?" I teased, pretending to scowl.

"Nearly." He smiled at the change in my mood. "Do you see the brightness ahead?"

I peered into the thick forest. "No, should I?"

"Maybe it's a bit soon for your eyes."

But then, after another hundred yards, I could definitely see a lightening of the trees ahead, a glow that was yellow instead of green. I picked up the pace, my eagerness growing with every step. He let me lead now, following noiselessly.

I reached the edge of the pool of light and stepped through the last fringe of ferns into the loveliest place I had ever seen. The meadow was small, perfectly round, and filled with wildflowers — violet, yellow, and soft white. Somewhere nearby, I could hear the bubbling music of a stream. The sun was directly overhead, filling the circle with a haze of buttery sunshine. I walked slowly, awestruck, through the soft grass, swaying flowers, and warm, gilded air. I halfway turned, wanting to share this with him, but he wasn't behind me where I thought he'd be. I spun around, searching for him with sudden alarm. Finally, I spotted him, still under the dense shade of the canopy at the edge of the hollow, watching me with cautious eyes. Only then did I remember what the beauty of the meadow had driven from my mind — the enigma of Edward and the sun, which he'd promised to illustrate for me today.

I took a step back toward him, my eyes alight with curiosity. His eyes were wary, reluctant. I smiled encouragingly and beckoned to him with my hand, taking another step back to him. He held up a hand in warning, and I hesitated, rocking back onto my heels.

Edward seemed to take a deep breath, and then he stepped out into the bright glow of the midday sun.

It was shocking. I couldn't get used to it, though I'd been staring at him all afternoon. His skin, white despite the faint flush from yesterday's hunting trip, literally sparkled, like thousands of tiny diamonds were embedded in the surface. He lay perfectly still in the grass, his glistening, pale lavender lids were shut like he was peacefully sleeping. A perfect statue, carved in some unknown stone, smooth like marble, glittering like crystal.

Now and then, his lips would move, so fast it looked like they were trembling. But, when I asked, he told me he was singing to himself; it was too low for me to hear.

I enjoyed the sun, too, the air was perfectly dewy. I lied back, as he did, and let the sun warm my face. The wind was gentle; it tangled my hair and ruffled the grass that swayed around his motionless form.

Hesitantly, always afraid, even now, that he would disappear like a mirage, too strange to be real...

“Does this happen to you often?”

“What?”

“Getting close to people?”

"No. Like I said before, I’m too afraid of hurting people.” He stared up into the distance. “I spoke to my brothers about it. To Jasper, every one of you is much the same. He's the most recent to join our family. It's a struggle for him to abstain from, you know, eating people. Emmett has been on the wagon longer, so to speak, and he understood why I cared. He says it’s happened twice, for him, once stronger than the other."

The word hung there for a moment in the warm breeze.

"What did Emmett do?" I asked to break the silence.

It was the wrong question to ask. His face grew dark, “It didn’t end well.”

I really say anything, I was too stunned.

"I left home at one point— I was too ashamed I felt so weak, they knew something was very wrong — and then I went straight to Carlisle, at the hospital, to tell him I was leaving."

I stared in surprise.

"I traded cars with him — he had a full tank of gas and I didn't want to stop. I didn't dare to go home, to face Esme. She wouldn't have let me go without a scene. She would have tried to convince me that it wasn't necessary...

"By the next morning, I was in Alaska." He sounded guilt-ridden.

"I spent two days there, with some friends... but I was homesick. I hated knowing I'd upset Esme, and the rest of them, my family. I needed to make a decision. So I came back..." He stared off into space.

"I took precautions, hunting, feeding more than usual before seeing you again. Of course, then you were nearly crushed to death in front of me. Later I thought of a perfectly good excuse for why I acted at that moment — because if I hadn't saved you if your blood had been spilled there in front of me, I don't think I could have stopped myself from exposing us. But I only thought of that excuse later on. At the time, all I could think was, 'Not her.'"

“Do you only see me as something you have to protect for your own sanity?”

His golden eyes were on me, I couldn’t read his expression, “I–” he sat up, “I’m working towards seeing you as an equal– as a friend, I mean, because I really do like being around you. Most humans instinctively shy away from us.”

“Is it an evolutionary thing?”

“I think so, but more on the human's part than ours. The primal brain recognizes something alien about us, so they shy away.” 

I nodded. We sat like that for another immeasurable moment; I wondered if he could be as unwilling to move as I was. But I could see the light was fading, the shadows of the forest beginning to touch us, and I sighed.

"We should go."

“Oh, right.” I wanted to spend the rest of the night with him.

"Can I show you something?" he asked, sudden excitement flaring in his eyes. 

I wasn’t sure.

"It’s how I travel in the forest." He saw my expression. "Don't worry, you'll be very safe, and we'll get to your truck much faster." 

"Will you turn into a bat?" I asked warily.

He laughed, louder than I'd ever heard. "I swear I won’t."

"Right, I'm sure you get that all the time."

"Come on, coward, climb on my back."

I waited to see if he was kidding, but, apparently, he meant it. He smiled as he read my hesitation, and reached for me. He then proceeded to sling me onto his back, with very little effort on my part, besides, when in place, clamping my legs and arms so tightly around him that it would choke a normal person. It was like clinging to a stone.

He startled me, suddenly grabbing my hand, pressing my palm to his face, and inhaling deeply.

If I'd ever feared death before in his presence, it was nothing compared to how I felt now.

He streaked through the dark, thick underbrush of the forest like a bullet, like a ghost. There was no sound, no evidence that his feet touched the earth. His breathing never changed, never indicated any effort. But the trees flew by at deadly speeds, always missing us by inches.

I was too terrified to close my eyes, though the cool forest air whipped against my face and burned them. I felt as if I were sticking my head out the window of an airplane in flight. And, for the first time in my life, I felt the dizzy faintness of motion sickness.

Then it was over. We'd hiked hours this morning to reach Edward's meadow, and now, in a matter of minutes, we were back to the truck.

"Exhilarating, isn't it?" His voice was high, excited.

He stood motionless, waiting for me to climb down. I tried, but my muscles wouldn't respond. My arms and legs stayed locked around him while my head spun uncomfortably.

"Bella?" he asked, anxious now.

"I think I need to lie down," I gasped.

"Oh, sorry." He waited for me, but I still couldn't move. 

"I think I need help," I admitted.

He laughed quietly, and gently unloosened my stranglehold on his neck. Then he pulled me around to face him, cradling me in his arms like a small child. He held me for a moment, then carefully placed me on the springy ferns.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

I couldn't be sure how I felt when my head was spinning so crazily. "Dizzy."

"Put your head between your knees."

I tried that, and it helped a little. I breathed in and out slowly, keeping my head very still. I felt him sitting beside me. The moments passed, and eventually, I found that I could raise my head. There was a hollow ringing sound in my ears.

"I guess that wasn't the best idea," he mused.

I tried to be positive, but my voice was weak. "No, it’s good to know you can do that. I think I should have closed my eyes."

"Remember that next time."

I groaned.

He laughed, his mood still radiant.

“Don’t beat yourself up, you’re only human.”

He was on his feet in one of his lithe, almost invisibly quick movements. He held out his hand to me, an unexpected gesture. I was so used to our standard of careful non-contact. I took his icy hand, needing the support more than I thought. How lighthearted, how human he seemed as he smiled now, his seraphic face untroubled. He was a different Edward than the one I had known. 

My balance had not yet returned.

"Maybe you should let me drive."

"Are you insane?" I protested.

"I can drive better than you on your best day," he teased. "You have much slower reflexes."

"I'm sure that's true, but I don't think my nerves, or my truck, could take it." 

"Trust me!"

My hand was in my pocket, curled tightly around the key. I pursed my lips, deliberated, then shook my head with a tight grin. "Nope. Not a chance."

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

I started to step around him, heading for the driver's side. He might have let me pass if I hadn't wobbled slightly. Then again, he might not have. His arm created an inescapable snare around my waist.

"Bella, I've already expended a great deal of personal effort at this point to keep you alive. I'm not about to let you behind the wheel of a vehicle when you can't even walk straight. Besides, friends don't let friends drive drunk," he quoted with a chuckle.

"Drunk?" I objected.

"Drunk, dizzy– same effect." 

"I can't argue with that," I sighed. There was no way around it; I held the key high and dropped it, watching his hand flash like lightning to catch it soundlessly. 

He could drive well when he kept the speed reasonable, I had to admit. Like so many things, it seemed to be effortless to him. He barely looked at the road, yet the tires never deviated so much as a centimeter from the center of the lane. He drove one-handed, holding my hand on the seat. Sometimes he gazed into the setting sun, sometimes he glanced at me — my face, my hair blowing out the open window, our hands twined together.

He had turned the radio to an oldies station, and he sang along with a song I'd never heard. He knew every line.

“I haven’t ever been emotionally close to anyone.”

“What about your siblings?”

“I’ve been open with them but I never tell them exactly what I mean. I don’t want them to look at me differently.”

“Nothing can be that bad.”

“Maybe not.”

"You're better at this than you give yourself credit for," I noted.

“You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true, _Edward_.”

He hummed, tentatively. I knew he wanted to say something. Deciding to push him, I asked, “What is it?”

“I want to tell you how I became...you know.”

“A vampire.”

He nodded, I wondered why he never wanted to say it, "I don’t want to upset you," he reflected, gazing into the sun; the minutes passed.

"Try me," I finally said.

He sighed, and then looked into my eyes, seeming to forget the road completely for a time. Whatever he saw there must have encouraged him. He looked into the sun — the light of the setting orb glittered off his skin in ruby-tinged sparkles — and spoke.

"I was born in Chicago in 1901." He paused and glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. My face was carefully unsurprised, patient for the rest. 

"Carlisle found me in a hospital in the summer of 1918. I was seventeen, and dying of Spanish influenza. I don't remember it well — it was a very long time ago, and memory fades so easily." He was lost in his thoughts for a short time before he went on. "I do remember how it felt when Carlisle saved me. It's not an easy thing, not something you could forget."

"What about your parents?"

"They had already died. I was alone. That was why he chose me. In all the chaos of the epidemic, no one would ever realize I was gone."

"How did he... save you?"

A few seconds passed before he answered. He seemed to choose his words carefully.

"It was difficult. Not many of us have the restraint necessary to accomplish it. But Carlisle has always been the most humane, the most compassionate of us... I don't think you could find his equal throughout all of history." He paused. "For me, it was very, very painful."

I could tell from the set of his lips, he would say no more on this subject.

His soft voice interrupted my thoughts. "He acted from loneliness. That's usually the reason behind the choice. I was the first in Carlisle's family, though he found Esme soon after. She fell from a cliff. They brought her straight to the hospital morgue, though, somehow, her heart was still beating."

"So you have to be dying, then, to be saved." 

"No, that's just Carlisle. He would never do that to someone who had another choice." The respect in his voice was profound whenever he spoke of his father. "It is easier he says, though," he continued, "if the blood is weak." He looked at the now-dark road, and I could feel the subject closing again.

"And Emmett and Rosalie?"

"Carlisle brought Rosalie to our family next. She was, instantly, like a sister to me. It was only two years later that she found Emmett. She was hunting — we were in Appalachia at the time — and found him during a bear attack. She carried him back to Carlisle, more than a hundred miles, afraid she wouldn't be able to do it herself. I'm only beginning to guess how difficult that journey was for her." He threw a pointed glance in my direction, and raised our hands, still folded together, to brush my cheek with the back of his hand.

"But she made it," I encouraged.

"Yes," he murmured. "She saw something in his face that made her strong enough. And they've been together ever since. Sometimes they live separately from us, as a married couple. But the younger we pretend to be, the longer we can stay in any given place. Forks seemed perfect, so we all enrolled in high school." He laughed. "I suppose we'll have to go to their wedding in a few years, again."

"What about Alice and Jasper?"

"Alice and Jasper are two very rare creatures. They both developed a conscience, as we refer to it, with no outside guidance. Jasper belonged to another family, a very different kind of family. He became depressed, and he wandered on his own. Alice found him. Like me, she has certain gifts above and beyond the norm for our kind."

"Really?" I interrupted, fascinated. "But you said you were the only one who could hear people's thoughts."

"That's true. She knows other things. She sees things — things that might happen, things that are coming. But it's very subjective. The future isn't set in stone. Things change."

His jaw set when he said that, and his eyes darted to my face and away so quickly that I wasn't sure if I only imagined it.

"She saw Jasper and knew that he was looking for her before he knew it himself. She saw Carlisle and our family, and they came together to find us. She's most sensitive to non-humans. She always sees, for example, when another group of our kind is coming near. And any threat they may pose."

"Are there a lot of you all?" I was surprised. How many of them could walk among us undetected?

"No, not many. But most won't settle in any one place. Only those like us, who've given up hunting humans can live together with humans for any length of time. We've only found one other family like ours, in a small village in Alaska. We lived together for a time, but there were so many of us that we became too noticeable. Those of us who live... differently tend to band together."

"And the others?"

"Nomads, for the most part. We've all lived that way at times. It gets tedious, like anything else. But we run across the others now and then, because most of us prefer the North."

"Sunless places.”

We were parked in front of my house now, and he'd turned off the truck. It was very quiet and dark; there was no moon. The porch light was off so I knew my father wasn't home yet.

"Exactly."

There was so much to think through, so much I still wanted to ask. But, to my great embarrassment, my stomach growled. I'd been so intrigued, I hadn't even noticed I was hungry. I realized now that I was ravenous.

"I'm sorry, I'm keeping you from dinner."

“It’s okay, dude. I had fun today.” I opened the car door but before I could step out, he asked me something.

“Do you want to meet them? My family, I mean.”

“Oh, uh, would they be okay with that?” I was asking more for my benefit than theirs.

He shrugged, “I’m sure they won’t mind.”

  
  



	12. The Cullens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella meets the family

"Look, I'm trying really hard not to think about what’s happening right now, so can we go already?" I demanded.

"And you're worried, not because you're headed to meet a houseful of highly dangerous beings, but because you think those highly dangerous beings won't like you?"

"Y _es_ ," I answered as if it were obvious.

He shook his head. "Incredible."

I realized, as he drove my truck out of the main part of town, that I had no idea where he lived. We passed over the bridge at the Calawah River, the road winding northward, the houses flashing past us growing farther apart, getting bigger. And then we were past the other houses altogether, driving through the misty forest. I was trying to decide whether to ask or be patient when he turned abruptly onto an unpaved road. It was unmarked, barely visible among the ferns. The forest encroached on both sides, leaving the road ahead only discernible for a few meters as it twisted, serpent-like, around the ancient trees.

And then, after a few miles, there was some thinning of the woods, and we were suddenly in a small meadow, or was it actually a lawn? The gloom of the forest didn't relent, though, for there were six primordial cedars that shaded an entire acre with their vast sweep of branches. The trees held their protecting shadow right up to the walls of the house that rose among them, making obsolete the deep porch that wrapped around the first story.

I don't know what I had expected, but it definitely wasn't this. The house was timeless, graceful, and probably a hundred years old. It was painted a soft, faded white, three stories tall, rectangular, and well proportioned. The windows and doors were either part of the original structure or a perfect restoration. My truck was the only car in sight. I could hear the river close by, hidden in the obscurity of the forest.

“Oh, wow.” 

"Ready?" he asked, opening my door.

“Your house––” I never saw something so demurely grand.

"Bella, I’m sure Esme will tell you all about it." 

I tried to laugh, but it seemed to get stuck in my throat. I smoothed my hair nervously.

The inside was even more surprising, less predictable, than the exterior. It was very bright, very open, and very large. This must've originally been several rooms, but the walls had been removed from most of the first floor to create a wide, open space. The back, south-facing wall had been entirely replaced with glass, and, beyond the shade of the cedars, the lawn stretched bare to the wide river. A massive curving staircase dominated the west side of the room. The walls, the high-beamed ceiling, the wooden floors, and the thick carpets were all varying shades of white.

Waiting to greet us, standing just to the left of the door, on a raised portion of the floor by a spectacular grand piano, were Edward's parents.

I'd seen Dr. Cullen before, of course, but at his side was Esme, I assumed, the only one of the family I'd never seen before. She had the same pale, beautiful features as the rest of them. Something about her heart-shaped face, her billows of soft, caramel-colored hair, reminded me of the ingénues of old-Hollywood. She was small, curvy, more rounded than the others. They were both dressed casually, in light colors that matched the inside of the house. They smiled in welcome but made no move to approach us. Trying not to frighten me, I guess.

I kinda felt like an unsocialized animal.

"Carlisle, Esme," Edward's voice broke the short silence, "this is Bella."

"You're welcomed here, Bella." Carlisle's step was measured, careful as he approached me. He raised his hand tentatively, and I stepped forward to shake hands with him.

"Thank you, Dr. Cullen." 

"Please, call me Carlisle."

"Carlisle." I grinned at him, 

Esme smiled and stepped forward as well, reaching for my hand. Her cold, stone grasp was just as I expected.

"It's very nice to meet you," she said sincerely.

"And you, too." And I was. It was like meeting a fairy tale — Snow White, in the flesh.

"Hey, Edward!" Alice called enthusiastically from the top of the staircase. She ran down a streak of black hair and white skin, coming to a sudden and graceful stop in front of me. Carlisle and Esme shot warning glances at her, but I liked it. It was comforting, being approached so casually.

"Hi, Bella!" Alice said, and she bounced forward to kiss my cheek. If Carlisle and Esme had looked cautious before, they now looked staggered. There was shock in my eyes, too, but my stomach fluttered and I blushed profusely. 

"You do smell nice, I never noticed before," she commented, to my extreme embarrassment.

No one else seemed to know quite what to say, and then Jasper was there — tall and leonine. A feeling of ease spread through me, and I was suddenly comfortable despite where I was. Edward stared at Jasper, raising one eyebrow.

"Hello, Bella," Jasper said. He kept his distance, not offering to shake my hand. But it was impossible to feel awkward near him.

"Hello, Jasper." I smiled, "It's nice to meet you all — you have an _incredibly_ beautiful home," I wanted so badly for Esme to show me around.

"Thank you," Esme said. "We're so glad that you came." She spoke with feeling, and I realized that she thought I was brave. I also realized that Rosalie and Emmett were nowhere to be seen, and I remembered Edward's too-innocent denial when I'd asked him if the others didn't like me. Carlisle's expression distracted me from this train of thought; he was gazing meaningfully at Edward with an intense expression. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward nod once.

I looked away, trying to be polite. My eyes wandered again to the beautiful instrument on the platform by the door. I suddenly remembered my childhood fantasy that should I ever win a lottery, I would buy a grand piano for my mother. She wasn't really good — she only played for herself on our secondhand upright — but I loved to watch her play. She was happy, absorbed — she seemed like a new, mysterious being to me then, someone outside the "mom" persona I took for granted. She'd put me through lessons, of course, but I whined until she let me quit.

Esme noticed my preoccupation.

"Do you play?" she asked, inclining her head toward the piano.

I shook my head. "Not at all. But it's so beautiful. Is it yours?"

"No," she laughed. "Edward didn't tell you he was musical?"

"No." I glared at his suddenly innocent expression with narrowed eyes. "It never came up."

Esme turned towards Edward, encouraging, "Well, play for her," 

"I’d _lo-_ " 

“Sometime later, I promise. I want to show Bella around.”

She eyed him closely before relenting with good humor, “Alright, love, but I’ll hold you to it.”

Edward put his hand to his heart, “I swear.”

She nodded at her son and then at me, before flitting away. 

After a few seconds of silence, Edward turned to me.

"They like you, you know," he said conversationally. "Esme especially."

I sighed. "They like me. But Rosalie and Emmett..." I trailed off, not sure how to express my doubts.

He frowned. "Don't worry about Rosalie," he said, his eyes wide and persuasive. "She'll come around."

I pursed my lips," Emmett?"

"Well, he thinks I'm a lunatic for befriending a human, but he doesn't have a problem with you. He's trying to reason with Rosalie."

"What is it that upsets her?" I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer.

He sighed deeply. "Rosalie struggles the most with... with what we are. It's hard for her to have someone on the outside know the truth. And she's a little jealous, you know? She wishes she were human."

"Oh," I muttered, still stunned. "Even Jasper, though..."

"That's really my fault," he said. "I told you he was the most recent to try our way of life. I warned him to keep his distance."

I thought about the reason for that and shuddered.

"Esme and Carlisle... ?" I continued quickly, to keep him from noticing.

"Are happy to see me happy. Actually, Esme wouldn't care if you had a third eye and webbed feet. All this time she's been worried about me, afraid of my being alone... She's ecstatic that I’ve found someone to spend time with.”

A strange misery fell over me,“It’s not like it’ll be forever.” I wish I didn’t say it.

Edward turned to me, looking just as heartache as I did, he shrugged, “Better to have loved and lost…”

He was right, but I still didn’t want to think about it.

I changed the subject, "So what was Carlisle telling you before?"

His eyebrows pulled together. "You noticed that, did you?" 

I shrugged. "Of course."

He looked at me thoughtfully for a few seconds before answering. "He wanted to tell me some news — he didn't know if it was something I would share with you."

"Are you going to? ‘Cause, personally, I’d like to know."

"Okay, well, nothing's _wrong_ , exactly. Alice just sees some visitors coming soon. They know we're here, and they're curious."

"Visitors?"

"Yes... well, they aren't like us, of course — in their hunting habits, I mean. They probably won't come into town at all, but I’d need you to either stay far away from me or have you have you at my side at all times till they're gone."

“Fuck– okay,” my voice cracked.

“Are you scared?”

“Yes, _of course,_ I’m fucking _scared_! You just told me there’s a high chance I could _die_ _soon!”_

“It’s not a particularly high chance, I don’t think.”

“It’s _probability_ , Edward!” 

He chuckled. I chose to ignore it, looking away, my eyes wandering again around the spacious room.

He followed my gaze. "Not what you expected, is it?" he asked, his voice smug. 

"No," I admitted, “I thought it’d be more Addams Family rather than Modern Living.”

“What a disappointment this must be for you," 

"Shut up, it's so light... so open."

He was more serious when he answered. "It's the one place we never have to hide."

I made an affirmative noise.

"Do you want to see the rest of the house?"

“Obviously.”

We walked up the massive staircase, my hand trailing along the satin-smooth rail. The long hall at the top of the stairs was paneled with a honey-colored wood, the same as the floorboards.

"Rosalie and Emmett's room... Carlisle's office... Alice's room..." He gestured as he led me past the doors.

He would have continued, but I stopped dead at the end of the hall, staring incredulously at the ornament hanging on the wall above my head. Edward chuckled at my bewildered expression.

"You can laugh," he said. "It’s pretty funny."

I didn't laugh. My hand raised automatically, one finger extended as if to touch the large wooden cross, it's dark patina contrasting with the lighter tone of the wall. I didn't touch it, though I was curious if the aged wood would feel as silky as it looked.

"It must be very old," I guessed.

He shrugged. "Early sixteen-thirties, more or less."

I looked away from the cross to stare at him.

"Why do you keep this here?" I wondered.

"Nostalgia. It belonged to Carlisle's father. It hung on the wall above the pulpit in the vicarage where he preached."

I wasn't sure if my face betrayed my shock, but I returned to gazing at the simple, ancient cross, just in case. I quickly did the mental math; the cross was over three hundred and seventy years old. The silence stretched on as I struggled to wrap my mind around the concept of so many years.

"Are you all right?" He sounded worried.

"How old is Carlisle?" I asked quietly, still staring up.

"He just celebrated his three hundred and sixty-second birthday," Edward said. I looked back at him, startled with a million questions.

He watched me carefully as he spoke.

"Carlisle was born in London, in the sixteen-forties, he believes. Time wasn't marked as accurately back then, for the common people anyway. It was just before Cromwell's rule, though."

I kept my face composed, aware of his scrutiny. It was easier if I pretended it was just fantasy.

"He was the only son of an Anglican pastor. His father was an intolerant man, typical of the time. As the Protestants came into power, he was enthusiastic in his persecution of Roman Catholics and other religions. He also believed very strongly in the reality of evil. He led hunts for witches, werewolves and, you know, _vampires_." I grew very still at the word. I'm sure he noticed, but he went on without pausing.

"They burned a lot of innocent people — of course, the real creatures weren’t as easy to catch.

"When the pastor grew old, he placed Carlisle in charge of the raids. But he wasn’t as quick to accuse, to see demons where they did not exist, as his father was. But he was persistent and more clever than his father. He actually discovered a coven of true vampires that lived hidden in the sewers, only coming out by night to hunt. 

"The people gathered their pitchforks and torches," — his brief laugh was darker now — "and waited where Carlisle had seen the monsters exit into the street. Eventually one emerged."

His voice was very quiet; I strained to catch the words.

"He must have been ancient, and weak with hunger. Carlisle heard him call out in Latin to the others when he caught the scent of the mob. He ran through the streets, and Carlisle was in the lead of the pursuit. The creature could have easily outrun them, but Carlisle thinks he was too hungry, so he turned and attacked. He fell on Carlisle first, but the others were close behind, and he turned to defend himself. He killed two men, and made off with a third, leaving Carlisle bleeding in the street."

He paused. I could sense he was editing something, keeping something from me.

"Carlisle knew the bodies would be burned — anything infected by the monster must be destroyed. He acted instinctively to save his own life. He crawled away from the alley while the mob followed the fiend and his victim. He hid in a cellar, buried himself in rotting potatoes for three days. It's a miracle he was able to keep silent, to stay undiscovered.

"It was over then, and he realized what he had become."

I'm not sure what my face was revealing, but he suddenly broke off.

"Too much?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine," I assured him. 

He smiled. "You have a few more questions, right?"

"A few."

His smile widened over his teeth. He started back down the hall, pulling me along by the hand. "Come on, then," he encouraged. "I'll show you.”

He led me back to the room that he'd pointed out as Carlisle's office. He paused outside the door for an instant.

"Come in," Carlisle's voice invited.

Edward opened the door to a high-ceilinged room with tall, west-facing windows. The walls were paneled again, in a darker wood — where they were visible. Most of the wall space was taken up by towering bookshelves that reached high above my head and held more books than I'd ever seen outside a library.

Carlisle sat behind a huge mahogany desk in a leather chair. He was just placing a bookmark in the pages of the thick volume he held

"What can I do for you?" he asked us pleasantly, rising from his seat.

"I wanted to show Bella some of our history," Edward said. "Well, your history, actually."

"We didn't mean to disturb you," I apologized.

"Not at all. Where are you going to start?"

"The Waggoner," Edward replied, the wall we faced now was different from the others. Instead of bookshelves, this wall was crowded with framed pictures of all sizes, some in vibrant colors, others dull monochromes. I searched for some logic, some binding motif the collection had in common, but I found nothing in my hasty examination.

Edward pulled me toward the far left side, standing me in front of a small square oil painting in a plain wooden frame. This one did not stand out among the bigger and brighter pieces; painted in varying tones of sepia, it depicted a miniature city full of steeply slanted roofs, with thin spires atop a few scattered towers. A wide river filled the foreground, crossed by a bridge covered with structures that looked like tiny cathedrals.

"London in the sixteen-fifties," Edward said.

"The London of my youth," Carlisle added, from a few feet behind us. I flinched; I hadn't heard him approach. 

"Will you tell the story?" Edward asked. I twisted a little to see Carlisle's reaction.

He met my glance and smiled. "I would," he replied. "But I'm actually running a bit late. The hospital called this morning — Dr. Snow is taking a sick day. Besides, you know the stories as well as I do," he added, grinning at Edward now.

It was a strange combination to absorb — the everyday concerns of the town doctor stuck in the middle of a discussion of his early days in seventeenth-century London.

It was also unsettling to know that he spoke aloud only for my benefit. After another warm smile for me, Carlisle left the room. I stared at the little picture of Carlisle's hometown for a long moment.

"What happened then?" I finally asked, "When he realized what had happened to him?"

He glanced back to the paintings, and I looked to see which image caught his interest now. It was a larger landscape in dull fall colors — an empty, shadowed meadow in a forest, with a craggy peak in the distance.

"When he knew what he had become," Edward said quietly, "he rebelled against it. He tried to destroy himself. But that's not easily done."

"What do you mean by–– _oh_." I didn't mean to say it aloud, but the word broke through my shock.

"He jumped from great heights," Edward told me, his voice impassive. "He tried to drown himself in the ocean...nothing worked, obviously. It is amazing that he was able to resist... feeding... while he was still so new. The instinct is more powerful then, it takes over everything. But he was so repelled by himself that he had the strength to try to kill himself with starvation."

"Is that possible?" My voice was faint.

"No, there are very few ways we can be killed."

_Would a stake to the heart suffice?_

"So he grew very hungry and eventually weak. He strayed as far as he could from human civilization, not wanting to risk it. For months he wandered by night, seeking the loneliest places, loathing himself.

"One night, a herd of deer passed his hiding place. He was so wild with thirst that he attacked without a thought. His strength returned and he realized there was an alternative to human blood. Over the next months, his new philosophy was born. He could exist without being a ghoul. He found himself again.

"Now he had unlimited time before him. He studied by night, planned by day. He swam to France and —"

"He _swam_ to France?"

"People swim the Channel all the time, Bella," he reminded me patiently.

"Oh, yeah, right."

"Swimming is easy for us, technically, we don't need to breathe."

" _You don't have to breathe_?" I shouted.

"No, it's not necessary. Just a habit." He shrugged. 

"How long can you go without breathing?"

"Indefinitely, I suppose; I don't know. It gets a bit uncomfortable — being without a sense of smell."

I sighed, exasperated. "So, go on — Carlisle was swimming to France."

He paused, getting back into his story. Reflexively, his eyes flickered to another picture — the most colorful of them all, the most ornately framed, and the largest; it was twice as wide as the door it hung next to. The canvas overflowed with bright figures in swirling robes, writhing around long pillars and off marbled balconies. I couldn't tell if it represented Greek mythology, or if the characters floating in the clouds above were meant to be biblical.

"And he continued on through Europe, to the universities there. He studied music, science, medicine — and found his calling, or penance, in saving human lives." His expression became awed, almost reverent. "I can't describe it adequately; it took Carlisle two centuries of torturous effort to perfect his self-control. Now he is all but immune to the scent of human blood, and he is able to do the work he loves without agony..." Edward stared off into space for a long moment. Suddenly he seemed to recall his purpose. He tapped his finger against the huge painting in front of us.

"He was studying in Italy when he discovered the others there. They were much more civilized and educated than the ones in the London sewers."

He touched a comparatively sedate quartet of figures painted on the highest balcony, looking down calmly on the mayhem below them. I examined the grouping carefully and realized, with a startled laugh, that I recognized the golden-haired man.

"Solimena was greatly inspired by Carlisle's friends. He often painted them as gods," Edward chuckled. "Aro, Marcus, Caius," he said, indicating the other three, two black-haired, one snowy-white. "Nighttime patrons of the arts."

"What happened to them?" I wondered aloud, my fingertip hovering a centimeter from the figures on the canvas.

"They're still there." He shrugged. "As they have been for who knows how many millennia. Carlisle only stayed with them for a few decades. He greatly admired their civility, but they persisted in trying to cure his aversion to 'his natural food source,' as they called it. It was a back and forth, to no avail. At that point, Carlisle decided to try the New World. He dreamed of finding others like himself. 

"He didn't find anyone for a long time. But, as monsters became the stuff of fairy tales, he found he could interact with unsuspecting humans as if he were one of them. He began practicing medicine. 

"When the influenza epidemic hit, he was working nights in a hospital in Chicago...and you know the rest.” His voice, nearly a whisper now, trailed off. He stared unseeingly through the west windows. I waited quietly.

When he turned back to me, a gentle angel's smile lit his expression. "So we've come full circle," he concluded.

"Have you always stayed with Carlisle, then?" I wondered.

"Almost always." He lightly pulled me with him as he walked through the door. I stared back at the wall of pictures, wondering if I would ever get to hear the other stories.

Edward didn't say any more as we walked down the hall, so I asked, "Almost?"

He sighed, seeming reluctant to answer. "Well, I had a typical bout of rebellious adolescence — about ten years after I was created–– born, or, whatever you want to call it. I wasn't sold on his life of abstinence, and I resented him for curbing my appetite. So I went off on my own for a time."

“Shit…” I whispered. I vaguely realized that we were headed up the next flight of stairs, but I wasn't paying much attention to my surroundings. 

He barked a laugh, more loudly than before. We were at the top of the stairs now, in another paneled hallway.

"It took me only a few years to return to Carlisle and recommit to his vision. I thought I would be exempt from the depression that accompanies a conscience. Because I knew the thoughts of my prey, I could pass over the innocent and pursue only the evil. If I followed a murderer down a dark alley where he stalked a young girl — if I saved her, then surely I wasn't so terrible."

I shivered, imagining only too clearly what he described — the alley at night, the frightened girl, the dark man behind her. And Edward, Edward as he hunted, terrible and glorious as a god, unstoppable. Would she have been grateful, that girl, or more frightened than before?

And, so, I went back to Carlisle and Esme. They welcomed me back like the prodigal. It was more than I deserved."

We'd come to a stop in front of the last door in the hall.

"My room," he informed me, opening it and pulling me through.


	13. The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dudes do baseball.

**His room faced** south, with a wall-sized window like the great room below. The whole backside of the house must be glass. His view looked down on the winding Sol Duc River, across the untouched forest to the Olympic Mountain range. The mountains were much closer than I would have believed.

The western wall was completely covered with shelf after shelf of CDs. His room was better stocked than a music store. In the corner was a sophisticated- looking stereo system. There was no bed, only a wide and inviting black sofa. The floor was covered with a thick golden carpet, and the walls were hung with heavy fabric in a slightly darker shade.

"Good acoustics?" I went to look at his mind-boggling music collection. He nodded. 

"How do you have these organized?" I asked, unable to find any rhyme or reason to the titles.

"Ummm, by year, and then by personal preference within that frame," he said absently.

I turned, and he was looking at me with a peculiar expression in his eyes.

"What?"

"I don’t know." He shrugged, and shied away, “I’m happy you know everything I could tell you and you haven’t run for the hills. I’m _happy._ ” His voice broke.

I got really misty-eyed, I went over to hug him. He flinched at first but settled into the embrace and hugged me back, tightly. I was worried he’d regret telling me, it was good to know that wasn't the case. 

"The only way I find you scary is in how you organize your music. In that way, you are a very, very terrifying monster,"

He laughed. We were still embraced, though he was cold to the touch, at that moment I realized he didn’t have a heartbeat. I guess I should've concluded that earlier but...

A soft voice sounded from the hall, "Can we come in?"

We separated, I could see it was Alice, then, and Jasper behind her in the doorway.

Alice walked — almost danced, her movements were so graceful — to the center of the room, where she folded herself sinuously onto the floor. Jasper, however, paused at the door, his expression a trifle shocked. He stared at Edward's face, and I wondered if he was tasting the atmosphere with his unusual sensitivity.

"Alice says there's going to be a real storm tonight, and Emmett wants to play ball. Are you game?" Jasper asked, smiling despite himself as he walked into the room.

The words were all common enough, but the context confused me. I gathered that Alice was a bit more reliable than the weatherman, though. Edward's eyes lit up, but he hesitated.

"Of course you should bring Bella," Alice chirped. I thought I saw Jasper throw a quick glance at her.

"Do you want to go?" Edward asked me, excited, his expression vivid. 

"Sure." I couldn't disappoint such a face. "Where?"

"We have to wait for thunder to play ball — you'll see why," he promised. 

"Will I need an umbrella?"

They all three laughed. "Will she?" Jasper asked Alice.

"No." She was positive. "The storm will hit over town. It should be dry enough in the clearing."

"Good, then." The enthusiasm in Jasper's voice was catching, naturally. I found myself eager, rather than scared stiff.

"Let's go see if Carlisle will come." Alice bounded up and to the door in a fashion that would break any ballerina's heart.

"Like you don't know," Jasper teased, and they were swiftly on their way. Jasper managed to inconspicuously close the door behind them.

"What’re we playing?" I demanded.

" _You’ll_ be watching," Edward clarified. "We’ll be playing baseball."

"You guys like baseball?"

"It's the American pastime," he mocked. 

It was just beginning to drizzle when Edward turned onto my street. Up until that moment, I'd had no doubt that he'd be staying with me while I spent a few interim hours in the real world. And then I saw the black car, a weathered Ford, parked in Charlie's driveway — and heard Edward mutter in a low, harsh voice, “God dammit.”

Leaning away from the rain under the shallow front porch, Jacob Black stood behind his father's wheelchair. Billy's face was impassive as stone as Edward parked my truck against the curb. Jacob stared down, his expression mortified.

"Did he come to warn Charlie?" I was more speaking aloud than asking.

Edward just nodded, answering Billy's gaze through the rain with narrowed eyes.

Charlie wasn't home yet.

"Look, I’ll deal with this," I again, more commanded than suggested. 

"That's probably best. Be careful, though. His son has no idea."

I sighed and put my hand on the door handle.

"Get them inside," he instructed, "so I can leave. I'll be back around dusk."

“Do you have to leave?”

He nodded, doleful, “It’ll be worse if I stay.”His eyes flickered back to the porch, I did so too after him. Billy's face was no longer impassive, and his hands clutched at the armrests of his chair.

"I'll be back soon," he promised. I could feel his eyes on my back as I half-ran through the light rain toward the porch.

"Hey, Billy. Hi, Jacob." I greeted them cheerfully. "Charlie's gone for the day — I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"Not long," Billy said in a subdued tone. His black eyes were piercing. "I just wanted to bring this up." He indicated a brown paper sack resting in his lap.

"Thanks," I said, though I had no idea what it could be. "Why don't you come in for a minute and dry off?"

I pretended to be oblivious to his intense scrutiny as I unlocked the door, and waved them in ahead of me.

"Here, let me take that," I offered, turning to shut the door.

"You'll want to put it in the fridge," Billy noted as he handed me the package. "It's some of Harry Clearwater's homemade fish fry — Charlie's favorite. The fridge keeps it drier." He shrugged.

"Thank goodness, I was running out of new ways to fix fish, and he's bound to bring home more tonight."

"Fishing again?" Billy asked with a subtle gleam in his eye. "Down at the usual spot? Maybe I'll run by and see him."

"No," I quickly lied, my face going hard. "He was headed someplace new... but I have no clue where."

He took in my changed expression, and it made him thoughtful.

"Jake," he said, still appraising me. "Why don't you go get that new picture of Rebecca out of the car? I'll leave that for Charlie, too."

"Where is it?" Jacob asked, his voice morose. I glanced at him, but he was staring at the floor, his eyebrows pulling together.

"I think I saw it in the trunk," Billy said. "You may have to dig for it." Jacob slouched back out into the rain.

Billy and I faced each other in silence. After a few seconds, the quiet started to feel awkward, so I turned and headed to the kitchen. I could hear his wet wheels squeak against the linoleum as he followed.

I shoved the bag onto the crowded top shelf of the fridge and spun around to confront him. His deeply lined face was unreadable. He seemed to sense that I had given up on small talk. "Bella," he said, and then he hesitated.

I waited.

"Bella," he said again, "Charlie is one of my best friends."

"I know.."

He spoke each word carefully in his rumbling voice. "I noticed you've been spending time with one of the Cullens."

"I am." I was careful not to sound rude while standing my ground, after all, he was just worried.

His eyes narrowed. "Maybe it's none of my business, but I don't think that is such a good idea."

“I understand but, who I keep as a friend _is_ my business, alone.”

"You probably don't know this, but the Cullen family has an unpleasant reputation on the reservation."

"I thought they couldn’t step foot on your land.” I could see that my less than subtle reminder of the agreement that both bound and protected his tribe pulled him up short.

"That's true," he acceded, his eyes guarded. "You seem more informed about the Cullens than I expected."

I nodded and said as affably as possible, “I like to think I am.

He pursed his thick lips as he considered that. "Is Charlie as well informed?"

"Charlie likes the Cullens a lot," I hedged. He clearly understood my evasion. His expression was unhappy but unsurprised.

"It may not be my business," he said. "But it's definitely Charlie's."

"Wouldn’t it be my opinion whether or not I think that it's Charlie's business?"

He thought about it while the rain picked up against the roof, the only sound breaking the silence.

“Not necessarily. However, I won’t say anything this time.”

I sighed with relief. "Thanks, Billy."

"I only ask for you to think about what you're doing, Bella," he urged.

I heeded his request.

He frowned. "What I meant to say was, don't do what you're doing."

I looked into his eyes, filled with nothing but concern for me, and there was nothing I could say.

Just then the front door banged loudly, and I jumped at the sound.

"There's no picture anywhere in that car." Jacob's complaining voice reached us before he did. The shoulders of his shirt were stained with the rain, his hair dripping, when he rounded the corner.

"Hmm," Billy grunted, suddenly detached, spinning his chair around to face his son. "I guess I left it at home."

Jacob cringed.

"Well, Bella, tell Charlie" — Billy paused before continuing — "that we stopped by, I mean."

"I will," I muttered.

"Charlie's gonna be out late," Billy said as he rolled himself past his son.

Jacob was surprised. "Are we leaving already?"

“Yes.” He said not elaborating further.

"Oh." Jacob looked disappointed. "Well, I guess I'll see you later, then, Bella."

"Sure," I agreed.

"Take care," Billy said as a warning. 

“You too,” I replied flatly, mostly shocked with a guilty feeling.

Jacob helped his father out the door. I waved briefly, glancing swiftly toward my now-empty truck, and then shut the door before they were gone.

I stood in the hallway for a minute, listening to the sound of their car as it backed out and drove away. I stayed where I was, waiting for the irritation and anxiety to subside. When the tension eventually faded a bit, I headed upstairs to change out of my clothes into something more moveable.

I put up on what I found most comfortable — throwing on an old flannel shirt and jeans — knowing I would be in my raincoat all night anyway.

The phone rang and I sprinted downstairs to get it. 

"Hello?" 

"Bella? It's me," Angela said.

"Hey, Ang!" I was genuinely happy to hear from her. It felt like months rather than days since I'd spoken to her or Jess. "How was the dance?"

"It was fun." She said, though not sounding very enthused. “It just sucks I’m into Eric, like, _at all_ but Jessica keeps trying to force us together. Eric gets the hint and tries to be cordial about it all but…” She sighed, “I wish you were here.” 

“ _O_ h.” I don’t know what about that made us both tense up over the line. It’s not weird to want to go to a school dance with your friend.

“I mean,” She sounded like she was backtracking, “It would’ve been more fun with you there and maybe you might’ve liked it.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Out of all the things I could’ve said, this wasn’t the best. There was a lot I couldn’t put into words, leaving at a ‘maybe’ felt like I could buy time, so to speak.

"Yeah...It’s whatever, really. What did you do yesterday?" 

"I went hiking...kinda."

She snickered, “How do you ‘kinda’ go hiking?”

“Go halfway and turn back.” I laughed.

I heard Charlie's car in the garage.

"Hey, did you ever hear back from Cullen?"

The front door slammed and I could hear Charlie banging around under the stairs, putting his tackle away.

I hesitated, not sure if I should lie about it, "I did, actually.” 

"Hi there, kiddo!" Charlie called as he walked into the kitchen. I waved at him.

Angela heard his voice. "Oh, your dad's there. Never mind — we'll talk tomorrow. Bye, Bel.”

"See ya, Ang." I hung up the phone.

"Hey, Dad," I said. He was scrubbing his hands in the sink. "Where's the fish?"

"Freezer."

"I'll go grab a few pieces — Billy dropped off some of Harry Clearwater's fish fry this afternoon." I worked to sound enthusiastic.

"He did?" Charlie's eyes lit up. "That's my favorite."

Charlie cleaned up while I got dinner ready. It didn't take long till we were sitting at the table, eating in silence. Charlie was enjoying his food. I was wondering desperately how to fulfill my assignment, struggling to think of a way to broach the subject.

"What did you do with yourself today?" he asked, snapping me out of my reverie.

"Well, this afternoon I just hung out around the house..." Only the very recent part of this afternoon, actually. I tried to keep my voice upbeat, but my stomach was hollow. "And this morning I was over at the Cullens'."

Charlie dropped his fork.

"Dr. Cullen's place?" he asked in astonishment.

I pretended not to notice his reaction. "Yeah."

"What were you doing there?" He hadn't picked his fork back up.

"I’m friends with Edward Cullen, and he wanted to introduce me to his parents." I was getting really difficult to be nonchalant.

"Which one is he?" He scowled.

"The youngest, the one with the reddish-brown hair." 

His frown lifted into a contemplative one.

Though I felt we were getting somewhere, my brain went into damage control, "I thought you liked the Cullens."

“I do.” He paused, “So, is this Edward your boyfriend?"

I rolled my eyes, "No, we’re _friends_."

He didn’t look particularly convinced but at least he didn’t seem angry. “He’s picking me up later.”

"Where is he taking you?"

"We're going to play baseball with his family."

His face puckered, and then he finally chuckled. "You're playing baseball?" 

I pulled a faux incredulous face, "Well, I'll probably watch most of the time."

"You must really like this guy," he observed suspiciously.

“I tend to like my friends,” I sighed.

Later came soon enough when I heard the roar of an engine pull up in front of the house. I jumped up and started to clear my plate.

The doorbell rang, and Charlie stalked off to answer it. I was half a step behind him.

Edward stood in the halo of the porch light, I hadn't realized how hard it was pouring outside. Charlie clapped him on his shoulder, "Come on in, Edward."

"Thanks, Chief Swan," Edward ducked in through the door.

"Call me Charlie. Here, I'll take your jacket."

"Thanks, sir."

"Have a seat there." Charlie vaguely gestured to the living room. 

Edward sat down fluidly in the only chair, forcing me to sit next to Chief Swan on the sofa. 

"So I hear you're getting my girl to watch baseball." Only in Washington would the fact that it was raining buckets have no bearing at all on the playing of outdoor sports.

"Yes, sir, that's the plan." He didn't look surprised that I'd told my father the truth. 

"Well, more power to you, I guess." Charlie laughed, and Edward joined in.

"Okay." I stood up, wanting to end this relentlessly awkward meeting. "I think we should be going." I walked back to the hall and pulled on my jacket. They followed.

"Not too late, kids."

"Don't worry, I'll have her home early," Edward promised. 

"You take care of my girl, all right?"

I groaned, but they ignored me. Edward nodded sincerely and Charlie couldn’t doubt him.

He let us be and closed the door behind us.

“He thinks we’re dating, doesn’t he?”

I looked up at Edward, with the utmost annoyance but, not particularly towards him, “Evidently.”

He snickered.

I stopped dead on the porch. There, behind my truck, was a monster Jeep. Its tires were higher than my waist. There were metal guards over the headlights and tail-lights, and four large spotlights attached to the crash bar. The hardtop was shiny red.

Edward followed me around to my side and opened the door. I gauged the distance to the seat and prepared to jump for it. He sighed, and then lifted me in with one hand. As he went around to the driver's side, at a normal, human pace, I tried to put on my seat belt. But there were too many buckles.

"What's all this?" I asked when he opened the door. 

"It's an off-roading harness."

" _Off-roading?_ "

“Yes.” He beamed. I eventually figured out how to put on the thing and we pulled away from the house.

"Big Jeep," I commented when we got out on the road

"It's Emmett's. I didn't think you'd want to run the whole way."

"Run the whole way? As in, we're still going to run part of the way?" My voice edged up a few octaves.

He grinned tightly. "Well, _you're_ not the one running."

I stuck my tongue out at him. 

I don't know how he navigated his way in the gloom and downpour, but he somehow found a side road that was less of a road and more of a mountain path. For a long while conversation was impossible because I was bouncing up and down on the seat like a jackhammer. He seemed to enjoy the ride, though, smiling hugely the whole way.

And then we came to the end of the road; the trees formed green walls on three sides of the Jeep. The rain was a mere drizzle, slowing every second, the sky brighter through the clouds.

"Sorry, Bella, we have to go on foot from here."

I made a god awful sound of despair.

“Come on, you’ll be okay.”

Before I could react, he pulled me from the Jeep and set my feet on the ground. It was barely misting now; Alice was going to be right.

He threw me across his back as he had before, and I could see the extra effort it took for him to be as gentle as he was. I locked my legs around his waist and secured my arms in a choke hold around his neck.

"Don't forget to close your eyes," he warned.

I quickly tucked my face into his shoulder blade, under my own arm, and squeezed my eyes shut.

And I could hardly tell we were moving. I could feel him gliding along beneath me, but he could have been strolling down the sidewalk, the movement was so smooth. I was tempted to peek, just to see if he was really flying through the forest like before, but I resisted. It wasn't worth the dizziness.

I wasn't quite sure we had stopped until he reached back and patted my head. "It's over."

I dared to open my eyes, and, sure enough, we were at a standstill. I stiffly unlocked my stranglehold on his body and slipped to the ground, landing on my backside.

"Oh!" I huffed as I hit the wet ground. But my bewildered expression pushed him over the edge, and he broke into a roar of laughter.

I helped me up and I brushed the mud and bracken off the back of my jacket. That only made him laugh harder. 

I put my hands on my hips, “Lead the way, asshole.”

"Aye, aye, Captain."

He led me a few feet through the tall, wet ferns and draping moss, around a massive hemlock tree, and we were there, on the edge of an enormous open field in the lap of the Olympic peaks. It was twice the size of any baseball stadium.

I could see the others all there; Esme, Emmett, and Rosalie, sitting on a bare outcropping of rock, were the closest to us, maybe a hundred yards away. Much farther out I could see Jasper and Alice, at least a quarter of a mile apart, appearing to throw something back and forth, but I never saw any ball. It looked like Carlisle was marking bases, but could they really be that far apart?

When we came into view, the three on the rocks rose.

Esme started toward us. Emmett followed after a long look at Rosalie's back; Rosalie had risen gracefully and strode off toward the field without a glance in our direction. Alice had left her position and was running, or dancing, toward us. She hurtled to a fluid stop at our feet. "It's time," she announced.

As soon as she spoke, a deep rumble of thunder shook the forest beyond us, and then crashed westward toward town.

"Eerie, isn't it?" Emmett said with easy familiarity, winking at me.

"Let's go." Alice reached for Emmett's hand and they darted toward the oversized field; she ran like a gazelle. He was nearly as graceful and just as fast — yet Emmett could never be compared to a gazelle.

"You ready to play ball?" Edward asked, his eyes eager, bright. I tried to sound appropriately enthusiastic.

“It’s not like I can go back now.”

He snickered and bounded off after the other two. His run was more aggressive, a cheetah rather than a gazelle, and he quickly overtook them. 

I followed after Esme. She kept a few feet between us, and I wondered if she was still being careful not to frighten me. She matched her stride to mine without seeming impatient at the pace.

"You don't play with them?" I asked shyly.

"No, I prefer to referee — I like keeping them honest," she explained.

"Do they like to cheat, then?"

"Oh yes — you should hear the arguments they get into! Actually, I hope you don't, you would think they were raised in a barn."

I laughed, surprised, "You sound like my mom."

She laughed, too. "Well, I do think of them as my children in most ways. I never could get over my mothering instincts — Edward was the first of my new sons." She smiled at me warmly. "That's why I'm so happy that he's found you, dear." The endearment sounded very natural on her lips. "He's been the odd man out for far too long; it's hurt me to see him alone."

"You don't mind, then?" I asked, hesitant again. "That I'm not like you all?"

"No." She was thoughtful. "It will work out, somehow," she said, though her forehead creased with worry. Another peal of thunder began.

Esme stopped then; apparently, we'd reached the edge of the field. It looked as if they had formed teams. Edward was far out in left field, Carlisle stood between the first and second bases, and Alice held the ball, positioned on the spot that must be the pitcher's mound.

Emmett was swinging an aluminum bat; it whistled almost untraceable through the air. I waited for him to approach home plate, but then I realized, as he took his stance, that he was already there — farther from the pitcher's mound than I would have thought possible. Jasper stood several feet behind him, catching for the other team. Of course, none of them had gloves.

"All right," Esme called in a clear voice, which I knew even Edward would hear, as far out as he was. "Batter up."

Alice stood straight, deceptively motionless. Her style seemed to be stealth rather than an intimidating windup. She held the ball in both hands at her waist, and then, like the strike of a cobra, her right hand flicked out and the ball smacked into Jasper's hand.

"Was that a strike?" I whispered to Esme.

"If they don't hit it, it's a strike," she told me.

Jasper hurled the ball back to Alice's waiting hand. She grinned and then her hand spun out again.

This time the bat somehow made it around in time to smash into the invisible ball. The crack of impact was shattering, thunderous; it echoed off the mountains — I immediately understood the necessity of the thunderstorm.

The ball shot like a meteor above the field, flying deep into the surrounding forest.

"Home run," I murmured.

"Wait," Esme cautioned, listening intently, one hand raised. Emmett was a blur around the bases, Carlisle shadowing him. I realized Edward was missing.

"Out!" Esme cried in a clear voice. I stared in disbelief as Edward sprang from the fringe of the trees, ball in his upraised hand, his wide grin visible even to me.

"Emmett hits the hardest," Esme explained, "but Edward runs the fastest."

The inning continued before my astonished eyes. It was impossible to keep up with the speed at which the ball flew, the rate at which their bodies raced around the field.

I learned the other reason they waited for a thunderstorm to play when Jasper, trying to avoid Edward's infallible fielding, hit a ground ball toward Carlisle. Carlisle ran into the ball, and then raced Jasper to first base. When they collided, the sound was like the crash of two massive falling boulders. I jumped up in concern, but they were somehow unscathed.

"Safe," Esme called in a calm voice.

Emmett's team was up by one — Rosalie managed to flit around the bases after tagging up on one of Emmett's long flies — when Edward caught the third out. He sprinted to my side, sparkling with excitement.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"I'll never be able to sit through Major League Baseball ever again."

"And it sounds like you did so _much_ of that before," he laughed.

He played intelligently, keeping the ball low, out of the reach of Rosalie's always-ready hand in the outfield, gaining two bases like lightning before Emmett could get the ball back in play. Carlisle knocked one so far out of the field — with a boom that hurt my ears — that he and Edward both made it in. Alice slapped them dainty high fives.

The score constantly changed as the game continued, and they razzed each other like any streetball players as they took turns with the lead. Occasionally Esme would call them to order. The thunder rumbled on, but we stayed dry, as Alice had predicted.

Carlisle was up to bat, Edward, catching when Alice suddenly gasped. My eyes were on Edward, as usual, and I saw his head snap up to look at her. Their eyes met and something flowed between them in an instant. He was at my side before the others could ask Alice what was wrong.

"Alice?" Esme's voice was tense.

"I didn't see — I couldn't tell," she whispered. All the others were gathered by this time.

"What is it, Alice?" Carlisle asked with the calm voice of authority.

"They were traveling much quicker than I thought. I can see I had the perspective wrong before," she murmured.

Jasper leaned over her, his posture protective. "What changed?" he asked.

"They heard us playing, and it changed their path," she said, contrite as if she felt responsible for whatever had frightened her.

Seven pairs of quick eyes flashed to my face and away.

"How soon?" Carlisle said, turning toward Edward.

A look of intense concentration crossed his face.

"Less than five minutes. They're running — they want to play." He scowled.

"Can you make it out?" Carlisle asked him, his eyes flicking toward me again.

"No, not carrying —" He cut short. "Besides, the last thing we need is for them to catch the scent and start hunting."

"How many?" Emmett asked Alice. "Three," she answered tersely.

"Three!" he scoffed. "Let them come." 

For a split second that seemed much longer than it really was, Carlisle deliberated. Only Emmett seemed unperturbed; the rest stared at Carlisle's face with anxious eyes.

"Let's just continue the game," Carlisle finally decided. His voice was cool and level. "Alice said they were simply curious."

All this was said in a flurry of words that lasted only a few seconds. I had listened carefully and caught most of it, though I couldn't hear what Esme now asked Edward with a silent vibration of her lips. I only saw the slight shake of his head and the look of relief on her face.

"You catch, Esme," he said. "I'll call it now." And he planted himself in front of me.

The others returned to the field, warily sweeping the dark forest with their sharp eyes. Alice and Esme seemed to orient themselves around where I stood.

"Take your hair down," Edward said in a low, even voice. I did as told.

"Stay very still, keep quiet, and don't move from my side, please." He hid the stress in his voice well, but I could hear it. He pulled my long hair forward, around my face.

"That won't help," Alice said softly. "I could smell her across the field." 

"I know." A hint of frustration colored his tone.

Carlisle stood at the plate, and the others joined the game halfheartedly. "What did Esme ask you?" I whispered.

He hesitated for a second before he answered. "Whether they were hungry," he muttered unwillingly.

The seconds ticked by; the game progressed with apathy now. No one dared to hit harder than a bunt, and Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper hovered in the infield. Now and again, despite the fear that numbed my brain, I was aware of Rosalie's eyes on me. They were expressionless, but something about the way she held her mouth made me think she was angry.

Edward paid no attention to the game at all, eyes and mind ranging the forest.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he trembled. "I shouldn’t have brought you out like this.”

I heard his breath stop, and his eyes zeroed in on right field. He took a half step, angling himself between me and what was coming.

Carlisle, Emmett, and the others turned in the same direction, hearing sounds of passage much too faint for my ears. 


	14. The Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella has a plan.

**They emerged one by** one from the forest edge, ranging a dozen meters apart. The first male into the clearing fell back immediately, allowing the other male to take the front, orienting himself around the tall, dark-haired man in a manner that clearly displayed who led the pack. The third was a woman; from this distance, all I could see of her was that her hair was a startling shade of red. 

They closed ranks before they continued cautiously toward Edward's family, exhibiting the natural respect of a troop of predators as it encountered a larger, unfamiliar group of its own kind.

As they approached, I could see how different they were from the Cullens. Their walk was catlike, a gait that seemed constantly on the edge of shifting into a crouch. They dressed in the ordinary gear of backpackers: jeans and casual button-down shirts in heavy, weatherproof fabrics. The clothes were frayed, though, with wear, and they were barefoot. Both men had cropped hair, but the woman's brilliant orange hair was filled with leaves and debris from the woods.

Their sharp eyes carefully took in the more polished, urbane stance of Carlisle, who, flanked by Emmett and Jasper, stepped guardedly forward to meet them. Without any seeming communication between them, they each straightened into a more casual, erect bearing.

The man in front was easily the most beautiful, his skin olive-toned beneath the typical pallor, his hair a glossy black. He was of medium build, hard-muscled, of course, but nothing next to Emmett's brawn. He smiled an easy smile, exposing a flash of gleaming white teeth.

The woman was wilder, her eyes shifting restlessly between the men facing her, and the loose grouping around me, her chaotic hair quivering in the slight breeze. Her posture was distinctly feline. The second male hovered unobtrusively behind them, slighter than the leader, his light brown hair and regular features both nondescript. His gaze, though completely still, somehow seemed the most vigilant. 

Their _eyes_ , I feel, should’ve been the first thing I noticed. They weren’t the gold or black I had come to expect, but a deep burgundy color.

The dark-haired man, still smiling, stepped toward Carlisle.

"We thought we heard a game," he said in a relaxed voice with the slightest of French accents. "I'm Laurent, these are Victoria and James." He gestured to the vampires beside him.

"I'm Carlisle. This is my family, Emmett and Jasper, Rosalie, Esme and Alice, Edward and Bella." He pointed us out in groups, deliberately not calling attention to individuals. I felt a strange sense of pride when he said my name.

"Do you have room for a few more players?" Laurent asked sociably. 

Carlisle matched Laurent's friendly tone. "Actually, we were just finishing up. But we'd certainly be interested another time. Are you planning to stay in the area for long?"

"We're headed north, in fact, but we were curious to see who was in the neighborhood. We haven't run into any company in a long time."

"No, this region is usually empty except for us and the occasional visitor, like yourselves."

The tense atmosphere had slowly subsided into a casual conversation; I guessed that Jasper was using his peculiar gift to control the situation. "What's your hunting ground?" Laurent casually inquired.

Carlisle ignored the assumption behind the inquiry. "The Olympic Range here, up and down the Coast Ranges on occasion. We keep a permanent residence nearby. There's another permanent settlement like ours up near Denali."

Laurent rocked back on his heels slightly.

"Permanent? How do you manage that?" There was honest curiosity in his voice.

"Why don't you come back to our home with us and we can talk comfortably?" Carlisle invited. "It's a rather long story."

James and Victoria exchanged a surprising look at the mention of the word "home," but Laurent controlled his expression better.

"That sounds very interesting," His smile was genial. "We've been on the hunt all the way down from Ontario, and we haven't had the chance to clean up in a while." His eyes moved appreciatively over Carlisle's refined appearance.

"Please don't take offense, but we'd appreciate it if you'd refrain from hunting in this immediate area. We have to stay inconspicuous, you understand," Carlisle explained.

"Of course." Laurent nodded. "We certainly won't encroach on your territory. We just ate outside of Seattle, anyway," he laughed. A shiver ran up my spine.

"We'll show you the way if you'd like to run with us — Emmett and Alice, you can go with Edward and Bella to get the Jeep," he casually added. 

Three things seemed to happen simultaneously while Carlisle was speaking. My hair ruffled with the light breeze, Edward stiffened, and the second male, James, suddenly whipped his head around, scrutinizing me, nostrils flaring.

A swift rigidity fell on all of them as James lurched one step forward into a crouch. Edward bared his razor teeth, eyes fully black, crouching in defense, as a feral snarl ripped from his throat. Chills ran from the crown of my head to the back of my heels.

"What's this?" Laurent exclaimed in open surprise. Neither James nor Edward relaxed their aggressive poses. James feinted slightly to the side, and Edward shifted in response.

"She's with us." Carlisle's firm rebuff was directed toward James. Laurent seemed to catch my scentless powerfully than James, but awareness now dawned on his face.

"You brought a snack?" he asked, his expression incredulous as he took an involuntary step forward.

Edward snarled even more ferociously, harshly, his lip curling high above his glistening, teeth. Laurent stepped back again.

"I said she's with us," Carlisle corrected in a hard voice.

"But she's human," Laurent protested. The words were not at all aggressive, merely astounded.

"Yes." Emmett was very much in evidence at Carlisle's side, his eyes on James. James slowly straightened out of his crouch, but his eyes never left me, his nostrils still wide. Edward stayed tensed like a lion in front of me. 

When Laurent spoke, his tone was soothing — trying to defuse the sudden hostility. "It appears we have a lot to learn about each other."

"Indeed." Carlisle's voice was still cool.

"But we'd like to accept your invitation." His eyes flicked toward me and back to Carlisle. "And, of course, we will not harm the human girl. We won't hunt in your range, as I said."

James glanced at Laurent in disbelief and aggravation, he exchanged another brief look with Victoria, whose eyes still flickered edgily from face to face.

Carlisle measured Laurent's open expression for a moment before he spoke. "We'll show you the way. Jasper, Rosalie, Esme?" he called. They gathered together, blocking me from view as they converged. Alice was instantly at my side, and Emmett fell back slowly, his eyes locked on James as he backed toward us.

"Let's go, Bella." Edward's voice was low and bleak.

This whole time I'd been rooted in place, terrified into absolute immobility. Edward had to grip my elbow and pull sharply to break my trance. Alice and Emmett were close behind us, hiding me. I stumbled alongside Edward, still stunned with fear. I couldn't hear if the main group had left yet. Edward's impatience was almost tangible as we moved at a human pace to the forest edge.

Once we were into the trees, Edward slung me over his back without breaking stride. I gripped as tightly as possible as he took off, the others close on his heels. I kept my head down, but my eyes couldn’t close. They plunged through the now-black forest like wraiths. The sense of exhilaration that usually possessed Edward as he ran was now completely absent, replaced by a fury that consumed him and drove him still faster. The others trailed behind.

We soon reached the Jeep, and Edward barely slowed as he flung me in the backseat. Emmett slid in beside me. Alice was already in the front seat, and Edward was starting the engine. It roared to life and we swerved backward, spinning around to face the winding road.

The jolting trip was much worse this time, and the darkness only made it more frightening. Emmett and Alice both glared out the side windows.

We hit the main road, and though our speed increased, I could see much better where we were going. And we were headed south, _away_ from Forks.

"Where are we going?" I clamored.

No one answered. No one even looked at me.

" _Hey!_ Someone needs to fucking answer me! Where are you taking me?"

"We have to get you away from here — far away — now." Edward didn't look back, his eyes on the road. He was going 105.

"No! Turn around, take me home!" I shouted. I struggled with the stupid harness, tearing at the straps.

"Emmett?" Edward said grimly.

And Emmett secured my hands in his steely grasp.

"Fuck you–– let go! Edward, you can't do this."

“I don’t _want_ to, Bella but I have to.” 

" _Why?_ You can’t just abduct me! Charlie’s gonna call the FBI or some shit. They'll be all over your family and you’ll have to hide forever! You’re not ruining your goddamn life over this." I struggled violently, with total futility.

"Calm down, Bella." His voice was cold. 

“ _What about_ any _of this should I be calm about?”_

Alice spoke for the first time. "Edward, pull over." He flashed her a hard look, and then sped up. " _Edward_ , pull over right _now_!" I'd never heard her voice so loud.

"You don't understand," he roared. The speedometer neared 115. "He's a _tracker_ , Alice, did you see that? He's a _tracker_!"

I felt Emmett stiffen next to me, and I grew frantic at his reaction to the word. I wanted to understand, but there was no opening for me to ask.

"Edward. Pull over, _now._ " Alice's tone was urgent but even, there was a ring of authority in it.

The speedometer inched past 120.

"Do it, Edward."

"Listen to me, Alice. I saw his mind. Tracking is his passion, his obsession — and he wants her, Alice — her, _specifically_. He begins the hunt tonight."

"He doesn't know where —"

He interrupted her. "How long do you think it will take him to cross her scent in town? His plan was already set before the words were out of Laurent's mouth."

I gasped, knowing where my scent would lead. " _Charlie_! You can't leave him there! You can't leave him!" I thrashed against the harness.

“Shit, Charlie,” Emmet whispered.

"She's right," Alice said.

The car slowed slightly.

"Let's just look at our options for a minute," Alice coaxed.

The car slowed again, more noticeably, and then suddenly we screeched to a stop on the shoulder of the highway. I flew against the harness, and then slammed back into the seat.

"There are no options," Edward hissed.

"Then _make_ some options, Cullen. I'm not leaving my dad!" I demanded.

"We have to take her back," Emmett finally spoke.

"No." You could hear it in his voice, Edward was breaking.

"He's no match for us, Edward. He won't be able to touch her.”

"He'll wait."

Emmett was absolute. "I can wait, too."

"You didn't see — you don't understand. Once he commits to a hunt, he's unshakable. We'd have to kill him."

Emmett didn't seem upset by the idea. "That's an option."

"And the woman. She's with him. If it turns into a fight, the leader will go with them, too."

"There are enough of us."

"There's another option," Alice said quietly.

Edward turned on her in fury, his voice a blistering, overwrought snarl. "There — is — no — other — option!"

Emmett and I both stared at him in shock, but Alice seemed unsurprised. The silence lasted for a long minute as Edward and Alice stared each other down.

I broke it. "I have an idea."

"It won’t work," Edward growled. Alice glared at him, finally provoked. 

“You can’t read my mind, jackass. You have to hear me out.”

"No."

I seethed, “So it’s your way or nothing, huh, Cullen? If they wanted to find me so fucking bad after they potentially _kill_ _my father_ , they’ll just follow us wherever we go.” He didn’t say anything so I continued, "You take me back. I tell my dad I want to go home to Phoenix. I pack my bags. We wait till this tracker is watching, and then we run. He'll follow us and leave Charlie alone. Then you can take me any goddamn place you want."

They seemed stunned.

"It's not a bad idea, really." Emmett's surprise was definitely an insult.

"It might work — and we simply can't leave her father unprotected. You know that," Alice said.

Everyone looked at Edward. Edward pressed his fingers to his temples and squeezed his eyes shut.

Emmett was supremely confident. "Edward, he's not getting through us."

Alice thought for a minute. "I don't see him attacking. He'll try to wait for us to leave her alone."

"It won't take long for him to realize that's not going to happen."

He didn't look up. When he spoke, his voice sounded worn. "You're leaving tonight, whether the tracker sees or not. You tell Charlie that you can't stand another minute in Forks. Tell him whatever story works. Pack the first things you touch, and then get in your truck. I don't care what he says to you. You have fifteen minutes. Do you hear me? _Fifteen_ minutes from the time you cross the doorstep."

The Jeep rumbled to life, and he spun us around, the tires squealing. The needle on the speedometer started to race up the dial. A few minutes passed in silence, other than the roar of the engine. Then Edward spoke again.

"This is how it's going to happen. When we get to the house, if the tracker is not there, I will walk her to the door. Then she has fifteen minutes." He glared at me in the rearview mirror. "Emmett, you take the outside of the house. Alice, you get the truck. I'll be inside as long as she is. After she's out, you two can take the Jeep home and tell Carlisle."

"No way," Emmett broke in. "I'm staying with you."

"Emmett, I don't know how long I'll be gone."

"Until we know how far this is going to go, I'm staying with you."

Edward sighed. "If the tracker is there," he continued grimly, "we keep driving."

"We're going to make it there before him," Alice said confidently. He seemed to accept that. Whatever his problem with Alice was, he didn't doubt her now.

"What are we going to do with the Jeep?" she asked. His voice had a hard edge. 

"You're driving it home."

"No, I'm not," she said calmly.

"We can't all fit in my truck," I said. Edward didn't appear to hear me.

"I think you should let me go alone," I said. He heard that.

"Bella––" he started between clenched teeth.

"Listen, Charlie's not an imbecile," I protested. "If you're not in town tomorrow, he's going to get suspicious."

"That's irrelevant. We'll make sure he's safe, and that's all that matters."

"Then what about this tracker? He saw the way you acted tonight. Like I said, he's going to think you're with me, wherever you are."

Emmett looked at me, "Edward, listen to her," he urged. "You know she’s right."

"She is," Alice agreed. 

"I can't do that." Edward's voice was icy.

“Yes, you can.” I wasn’t urging him, I was _telling_ him. "Emmett should stay, too."

"You'll get a better crack at him if you stay," Alice agreed.

Edward stared at her incredulously. "You think I should let her go alone?"

"Of course not," Alice said. "Jasper and I will take her."

"I...can't," Edward repeated, but this time there was a trace of defeat in his voice. The logic was working on him.

“You’re going to.” I was insistent, he wasn’t playing the hero on my watch. "Hang out here for a few days. Let Charlie see you haven't kidnapped me, and lead the Tracker on a wild-goose chase. Make sure he's completely off my trail. Then come and meet me. Take a roundabout route, and then Jasper and Alice can go home."

I could see him beginning to consider it. "Meet you where?"

"Phoenix." 

"No. He'll hear that's where you're going," he said impatiently.

"And you'll make it look like that's a ruse, obviously. He'll know that we'll know that he's listening. He'll never believe I'm actually going where I say I am going."

"You don’t know that."

"I don’t however, there are several million people in Phoenix,"

"It's not that hard to find a phone book."

"I won't go home then."

"Oh?" he inquired, a dangerous note in his voice.

"I can get my own place fairly easily. I’ll stay inside."

"Edward, we'll be with her," Alice reminded him.

Emmet cut in, "Look, if we try to take him down while she's still around, there's a much better chance that someone will get hurt — she'll get hurt, or you will, trying to protect her. Now, if we get him alone..." He trailed off with a slow smile. 

The Jeep was crawling slowly along now as we drove into town. Despite my brave talk, I could feel the hairs on my arms standing up. I thought about Charlie, alone in the house, and mustered up my courage.

"Bella." Edward's voice was very soft. Alice and Emmett looked out their windows. "If you let anything happen to yourself— anything at all — I'm holding you personally responsible. Do you understand that?"

"Don’t patronize me.” 

He turned to Alice.

"Can Jasper handle this?"

"Give him some credit, Edward. He's been doing very, very well, all things considered."

"Can you handle this?" he asked.

And graceful little Alice pulled back her lips in a horrific grimace and let loose with a guttural snarl that had me cowering against the seat in terror.

Edward smiled at her. "But keep your opinions to yourself," he muttered suddenly. 


	15. A Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bella gets tracked

**Charlie was waiting** up for me. All the house lights were on. My mind was blank as I tried to think of a way to make him let me go. This was going to be truly awful.

Edward pulled up slowly, staying well back from my truck. All three of them were acutely alert, ramrod straight in their seats, listening to every sound of the wood, looking through every shadow, catching every scent, searching for something out of place. The engine cut off, and I sat, motionless, as they continued to listen. 

"Tracker's not here," Edward said tensely. "Let's go." Emmett reached over to help me get out of the harness.

"Don't worry, Bella," he said in a low but cheerful voice, "we'll take care of things here quickly."

I looked at Emmett; I barely knew him, and yet, somehow, not knowing when I would see him again after tonight was anguishing. I knew this was just a faint taste of the goodbyes I would have to survive in the next hour, and the thought made tears well.

"Alice, Emmett." Edward's voice was a command. They slithered soundlessly into the darkness, instantly disappearing. Edward opened my door and took my hand, then drew me into the protecting enclosure of his arm. He walked me swiftly toward the house, eyes always roving through the night. 

"Fifteen minutes," he reminded.

"I can do this." I sniffled. My tears had given me inspiration.

I stopped on the porch and took hold of his face in my hands. I looked fiercely into his eyes.

“If something goes wrong, don’t blame yourself, okay? And keep Charlie safe for me. I want to have the chance to apologize to him later."

He nodded, "We have to hurry." His voice was wavering and urgent.

I nodded, too, then I turned and kicked the door open.

" _Go away, Edward!_ " I yelled at him, running inside and slamming the door shut in his still-shocked face.

"Bella?" Charlie had been in the living room, and he was already on his feet.

"Leave me alone!" I screamed at him through relentlessly flowing tears. I ran up the stairs to my room, throwing the door shut and locking it. I ran to my bed, flinging myself on the floor to retrieve my duffel bag. I reached swiftly between the mattress and box spring to grab the knotted old sock that contained my cash hoard.

Charlie was pounding on my door.

"Bella, are you okay? What's going on?" His voice was frightened.

"I'm going home," I shouted, my voice breaking in the perfect spot. 

"Did he hurt you?" His tone edged toward anger.

"No!" I shrieked a few octaves higher. I turned to my dresser, and Edward was already there, silently yanking out armfuls of random clothes, which he proceeded to throw to me.

"Did he break up with you?" Charlie was perplexed.

"No!" I yelled, slightly more breathless as I shoved everything into the bag. Edward threw another drawer's contents at me. The bag was pretty much full now.

"What happened, Bella?" Charlie shouted through the door, pounding again.

" _I_ broke up with _him_!" I shouted back, jerking on the zipper of my bag closed.

"I'll be in the truck — go!" Edward whispered, and pushed me toward the door. He vanished out the window.

I unlocked the door and pushed past Charlie roughly, struggling with my heavy bag as I ran down the stairs.

"What happened?" he yelled. He was right behind me. "I thought you liked him."

He caught my elbow in the kitchen. Though he was still bewildered, his grip was firm.

He spun me around to look at him, and I could see in his face that he had no intention of letting me leave. I could think of only one way to escape, and it involved hurting him so much that I hated myself for even considering it. But I had no time, and I had to keep him safe.

I glared up at my father, fresh tears in my eyes for what I was about to do.

"I _like_ him — that's the problem. I can't do this anymore! I can't put down any more roots here! I don't want to end up trapped in this awful fucking town like Mom was! I'm not going to make the same dumb mistakes she did. I hate it — I can't stay here!"

His hand dropped from my arm as if I'd electrocuted him. I turned away from his shocked, wounded face and headed for the door.

"Bells, you can't leave now. It's dark out," he whispered behind me. 

I didn't turn around. "I'll sleep in the truck if I get tired."

"Just wait another week," he pleaded, shell-shocked. "Renée will be back by then."

This completely derailed me. "What?"

Charlie continued eagerly, almost babbling with relief as I hesitated. "She called while you were out. Things aren't going so well in Florida, and if Phil doesn't get signed by the end of the week, they're going back to Arizona. The assistant coach of the Sidewinders said they might have a spot for another shortstop."

I shook my head, trying to reassemble my now-confused thoughts. Every passing second put Charlie in more danger.

"I have a key," I muttered, turning the knob. He was too close, one hand extended toward me, his face dazed. I couldn't lose any more time arguing with him. I was going to have to hurt him further.

"Just let me _go_ , Charlie," I repeated my mother's last words as she'd walked out this same door so many years ago. I said them as angrily as I could manage, and I threw the door open. "It didn't work out, okay? It happens!"

My cruel words did their job — Charlie stayed frozen on the doorstep, stunned, while I ran into the night. I was hideously frightened of the empty yard. I ran wildly for the truck, visualizing a dark shadow behind me. I threw my bag in the bed and wrenched the door open. The key was waiting in the ignition.

"I'll call you tomorrow!" I yelled, wishing more than anything that I could explain everything to him right then, knowing I would never be able to. I gunned the engine and peeled out.

Edward reached for my hand.

"Pull over," he said as the house, and Charlie disappeared behind us.

"I can drive," I snapped.

“Bella, please.” 

I closed my eyes and eased the car to a stop, “ _Fine_ ––fine.”

Lights flared suddenly behind us. I stared out the back window, eyes wide with horror.

"It's just Alice," he reassured me. We switched places and started up again.

My mind was filled with the image of Charlie in the doorway. 

"The Tracker heard the end of your fight," Edward said grimly.

"Is Charlie––?" I asked in dread.

"Don’t worry the Tracker followed us.” 

Something in me said we couldn’t outrun him. My plan suddenly didn't feel so brilliant anymore.

I was staring back at Alice's headlights when the truck shuddered and a dark shadow sprung up outside the window.

My blood-curdling scream lasted a fraction of a second before Edward's hand clamped down on my mouth.

"It's Emmett!"

He released my mouth, "It's okay, Bella," he promised. "You're going to be safe." We raced through the quiet town toward the north highway.

“You don’t really hate Forks that much?” I knew he was trying to distract me.

"I couldn’t hate anything that much," I confessed, looking down at my knees. "That was the same thing my mom said when she left him. God, I feel like shit.”

"Don't worry. He'll forgive you." He smiled a little.

I stared at him desperately, and he saw the naked panic in my eyes.

"Bella, it's going to be alright."

“How do you _know_?”

“I _don’t_ but we gotta do what we gotta do.”

"Why did this happen?" I asked, my voice catching. "Why me?"

He stared blankly at the road ahead. 

“I mean, I was there, _big deal_ . It didn't bother the other two. Why did he decide to track me? There are people all over the place, why _me_?"

He hesitated, thinking before he answered.

"I got a good look at his mind tonight," he began in a low voice. "I'm not sure if there's anything I could have done to avoid this, once he saw you. But when I defended you... well, that made it a lot worse. He's not used to being thwarted, no matter how insignificant the object. He thinks of himself as a hunter and nothing else. His existence is consumed with tracking, and a challenge is all he asks of life. Suddenly we've presented him with a beautiful challenge — a large clan of strong fighters all hellbent on protecting the one vulnerable element. We've just made it his most exciting game ever." 

He paused a moment, "But if I had stood by, he would have killed you right then," he said with hopeless frustration.

I shuddered.

"I don't think I have any choice but to kill him now," he muttered. "Carlisle won't like it."

I could hear the tires cross the bridge, though I couldn't see the river in the dark. I knew we were getting close. I had to ask him now.

"How do you kill a vampire?"

He glanced at me with fearful eyes, "The only way to be sure is to tear him to shreds, and then burn the pieces."

"And the other two will fight with him?"

"The woman will. I'm not sure about Laurent. They don't have a very strong bond — he's only with them for convenience."

"But he and the woman — they'll try to kill you?" 

"Don’t worry about me. Your only concern is keeping yourself safe.”

"Is he still following?"

"Yeah. He won't attack the house, though. Not tonight." He turned off onto the invisible drive, with Alice following behind.

We drove right up to the house. The lights inside were bright, but they did little to alleviate the blackness of the encroaching forest. Emmett had my door open before the truck was stopped; he pulled me out of the seat, tucked me like a football into his vast chest, and ran me through the door.

We burst into the large white room, Edward and Alice at our sides. All of them were there; they were already on their feet at the sound of our approach. Laurent stood in their midst. I could hear low growls rumble deep in Emmett's throat as he set me down next to Edward.

"He's tracking us," Edward announced, glaring balefully at Laurent. 

Laurent's face was unhappy. "I was afraid of that."

Alice glided to Jasper's side and whispered in his ear; her lips quivered with the speed of her silent speech. They flew up the stairs together. Rosalie watched them and then moved quickly to Emmett's side. Her beautiful eyes were intense and — when they flickered unwillingly to my face — furious.

"What will he do?" Carlisle asked Laurent in chilling tones.

"I'm sorry," he answered. "I was afraid, when your boy there defended her, that it would set him off."

"Can you stop him?"

Laurent shook his head. "Nothing stops James when he gets started."

"We'll stop him," Emmett promised. There was no doubt what he meant.

"You can't bring him down. I've never seen anything like him in my three hundred years. He's absolutely lethal. That's why I joined his coven."

His coven, I thought, of course. The show of leadership in the clearing was merely that, a show.

Laurent was shaking his head. He glanced at me, perplexed, and back to Carlisle. "Are you sure it's worth it?"

Edward's enraged roar filled the room; Laurent cringed back.

Carlisle looked gravely at Laurent. "I'm afraid you're going to have to make a choice."

Laurent understood. He deliberated for a moment. His eyes took in every face and finally swept the bright room.

"I'm intrigued by the life you've created here. But I won't get in the middle of this. I bear none of you any enmity, but I won't go up against James. I think I will head north — to that clan in Denali." He hesitated. "Don't underestimate him. He's got a brilliant mind and unparalleled senses. He's every bit as comfortable in the human world as you seem to be, and he won't come at you head-on... I'm sorry for what's been unleashed here. I truly am." He bowed his head, but I saw him flicker another puzzled look at me.

"Go in peace," was Carlisle's formal answer.

Laurent took another long look around himself, and then he hurried out the door. The silence lasted less than a second.

"How close?" Carlisle looked to Edward.

Esme was already moving; her hand touched an inconspicuous keypad on the wall, and with a groan, huge metal shutters began sealing up the glass wall. I gaped.

"About three miles out past the river; he's circling around to meet up with the woman."

"What's the plan?"

"We'll lead him off, and then Jasper and Alice will run her south."

"And then?"

Edward's tone was deadly. "As soon as Bella is clear, we hunt him."

"I guess there's no other choice," Carlisle agreed, his face grim.

Edward turned to Rosalie.

"Get her upstairs and trade clothes," Edward commanded. She stared back at him with livid disbelief.

"Why should I?" she hissed. "She’s a menace and a danger _you've_ chosen to inflict on all of us."

I flinched, I didn’t think she was wrong. I am putting her family in danger just by existing.

"Rose..." Emmett murmured, putting one hand on her shoulder. She shook it off.

Edward looked away from Rosalie as if she hadn't spoken, as if she didn't exist.

"Esme?" he asked calmly.

"Of course," Esme murmured.

Esme was at my side in half a heartbeat, swinging me up easily into her arms, and dashing up the stairs before I could gasp in shock.

"Why do we have to switch clothes?" I asked breathlessly as she set me down in a dark room somewhere off the second-story hall.

"To confuse the smell. It won't work for long, but it might help get you out." I could hear her clothes falling to the floor.

"I don't think I'll fit..." I hesitated, but her hands were abruptly pulling my shirt over my head. I quickly stripped my jeans off myself. She handed me something, it felt like a shirt. I struggled to get my arms through the right holes. As soon as I was done she handed me her slacks. I yanked them on, They were too long so I rolled them up. Somehow she was already in my clothes. She pulled me back to the stairs, where Alice stood, a small leather bag in one hand. They each grabbed one of my elbows and half-carried me as they flew down the stairs.

It appeared that everything had been settled downstairs in our absence. Edward and Emmett were ready to leave, Emmett carrying a heavy-looking backpack over his shoulder. Carlisle was handing something small to Esme. He turned and handed Alice the same thing — it was a tiny silver cell phone.

"Esme and Rosalie will be taking your truck, Bella," he told me as he passed. I nodded, glancing warily at Rosalie. She was glowering at Carlisle with a resentful expression.

"Alice, Jasper — take the Mercedes. You'll need the dark tint in the south."

They nodded as well.

"We're taking the Jeep."

I was surprised to see that Carlisle intended to go with Edward. I realized suddenly, with a stab of fear, that they made up the hunting party.

"Alice," Carlisle asked, "will they take the bait?"

Everyone watched Alice as she closed her eyes and became incredibly still.

Finally, her eyes opened. "He'll track you. The woman will follow the truck. We should be able to leave after that." Her voice was certain.

"Let's go." Carlisle began to walk toward the kitchen.

But Edward was at my side at once. He caught me up in his iron grip, hugging me for longer than time allowed. Then it was over. He set me down, looking into my eyes, I could feel his sorrow, even as he sped away with his father and brother.

We stood there, the others looking away from me as the tears streaked noiselessly down my face.

The silent moment dragged on, and then Esme's phone vibrated in her hand. It flashed to her ear.

"Now," she said. Rosalie stalked out the front door without another glance in my direction, but Esme touched my cheek as she passed.

"Be safe." Her whisper lingered behind them as they slipped out the door. I heard my truck start thunderously, and then fade away. Jasper and Alice waited. Alice's phone was at her ear even before it buzzed.

"Edward says the woman is on Esme's trail. I'll get the car." She vanished into the shadows the way Edward had gone.

Jasper and I looked at each other. He stood across the length of the entryway from me... being careful.

"You're wrong, you know," he said quietly.

I looked desperately at him, wanting to understand but being too exhausted to really want to know.

"I can feel what you're feeling now — and you _are_ worth it."

"I'm not," I mumbled. "If anything happens to them, it would be for nothing."

"You're wrong," he repeated, smiling kindly at me.

I heard nothing, but then Alice stepped through the front door and came toward me with her arms held out.

"May I?" she asked.

"You're the first one to ask permission." I smiled sincerely.

She lifted me in her slender arms as easily as Emmett had, shielding me protectively, and then we flew out the door, leaving the lights bright behind us. 


End file.
